The Force
by peridotaurora
Summary: Squall Leonhart, Balamb's best and brightest detective, is on the trail of a deadly serial killer. But when he's partnered with the inexperienced rookie Rinoa Heartilly, things get so out of control that it may cost Leonhart his badge...or his life.
1. Suffer Little Children

New story from the author of "Diamond."

This will be AU, there might be some slight OOCness.

**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own anything. Put those handcuffs away.

**Chapter Warnings: **Um...swearing. Gory details. Maybe some controversy. That's all for now.

**Chapter Summary: **Lieutenant Squall Leonhart comes upon a grisly crime scene and receives some upsetting news...

**The Force

* * *

**

_The face of death changes every day._

Squall Leonhart didn't merely walk through a crime scene. He _prowled_. With pursed lips and a furrowed brow, he paced as he viewed with indifferent eyes the evil that humans can inflict on their peers.

The body was spread-eagled in the middle of the floor, almost swimming in its own blood. Squall crouched by the corpse. The victim had been brutally stabbed. He counted the number of knife wounds. A slash in the throat, three stabs in the chest, two in the stomach. The fluffy white carpet was saturated with rust-colored blood.

"What do we have?" he asked Zell Dincht, a low-ranked detective in the Homicide department who had gotten there half an hour earlier.

Zell's face was pale with disgust and nausea; he was relatively new to the job. "Jason Iverson. Caucasian male, age 15. We got a 911 call from his mother. She called, he didn't answer, she got worried and came home, and found him. They took her away about 15 minutes ago." They could still hear the mother's explosive sobs through the wall of the next room.

"Any signs of B&E?" Squall said, standing up.

"A broken window. Over there. We don't have the murder weapon yet. Oh _Christ_," Zell said, his face turning a sick shade of green as he looked at the corpse again.

"If you're gonna hurl, do it outside," Squall said impatiently. "I can't have you contaminating the scene."

"I'm really sorry," Zell said apologetically. "I just can't stand the _smell…_"

"Write this down," Squall interrupted. "Victim is a fifteen-year old Caucasian male. Throat slit along with five stabs in the torso. Assailant or assailants broke a window and entered."

Squall glanced at the body. Aside from the liberal amounts of blood surrounding the corpse, the murderer had done a relatively good job of cleaning up. No bloody footprints or any other signs.

" Bag him and do a sweep," he ordered. "Hair, fingerprints, blood, DNA…I want it all. _Then_ you can puke." He bent down to observe the victim again.

"Another one of these sick fucks killing kids," Zell muttered. "Just a kid!"

"It happens," Squall said casually. "It's one of the things that you're gonna learn. When it comes to stuff like this, no one is safe."

Jason Iverson had the face of a child. His round eyes were wide open and glassy as they stared lifelessly at the ceiling. "Wait," Squall said suddenly. The corner of a piece of paper was sticking out of Jason's breast pocket.

"A note from the killer?" Zell breathed. Squall unfolded it carefully. There was one line of cramped block letters.

_SUFFER LITTLE CHILDREN TO COME UNTO ME_

"…What?" Zell said, blanching. "That's sick, that's really sick …"

"Well," Squall said quietly, staring at the note. "This is a whole different kind of game."

* * *

Squall decided to stop by the morgue to see what information Eveann Kadowaki, the chief medical examiner, could offer him. He had sent Zell on the question circuit: asking the mother if her son had any enemies and so on. He doubted that Zell would find much.

Jason Iverson's body was lying on a cold slab, skin tinged an unearthly gray. But Squall never shuddered at the sight of the dead.

"Poor kid," Dr. Kadowaki remarked, tossing her blood-soaked rubber gloves into a wastebasket. "Looks like he'd never hurt a fly."

"Murderers usually don't care if their victims would hurt a fly, Eveann," Squall answered. "Got anything?"

Dr. Kadowaki nodded. "From the looks of it, the throat wound killed him immediately. The rest was done afterwards."

"Know what kind of weapon it was?"

She shook her head. "It's impossible to find just what type of knife it was. Judging by the markings, it was a serrated blade. Can't tell you much more than that."

Squall stared at the five stab wounds on Jason's torso. "It's a clean job. Quick, brutal stabs. No passion in it. It's a big sign. It doesn't look like our killer knew his victim," he mused, with narrowed eyes.

Dr. Kadowaki could almost see the gears shifting in Squall's brain. "Jesus, we've got another Jack the Ripper on our hands, don't we?" she commented.

"No," Squall replied without meeting her eyes.

"Well, why not? Seemingly random victims, a fatal throat wound, and severe wounds afterward," she said indignantly.

"The Ripper only worked with hookers and there would have been more mutilation," he pointed out. "Don't quit your day job."

Dr. Kadowaki smirked. "Looks like you know your serial killers. You need a better hobby. Like golf or something."

Squall headed for the door. "Sorry. Psychos to catch. You know how it is," he said, leaving Eveann alone in the cold room with only a corpse to keep her company.

* * *

"Did the mother tell you anything worthwhile?"

Zell shook his head. "No. Neither did the sister, the girlfriend, or the father. The victim's like a goddamn Boy Scout. Nobody that they know would want to kill a kid like that."

"Alright," Squall sighed. "Jason Iverson is a random victim. We'll ask more of his friends tomorrow, try to trace the note, and see what the sweepers got from the scene. Go home, Zell. It's 3 in the morning."

Zell unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn. "Then what are you gonna do?"

"Don't worry about it. Get some sleep before you pass out."

Zell mumbled a reply and left. He knew that it would be at least another two hours before Squall left the station. _Hey, if he wants to live for his job, it's not my problem._

After Zell left, Squall got himself a cup of coffee. Like many before him, he had become a genuine caffeine addict. The silence was a blessing. The only sound that could be heard was the Chief of Police, Quistis Trepe, still busily typing in her office.

He turned the note over in his hands. _Suffer little children to come unto me_. He thought hard. If he was on the right track, the murderer would kill again and the victims would be children. He chewed on one of his pens, as he did when he was thinking.

He was lost in thought when Chief Quistis came out of her office, coat slung over her shoulder, ready to leave for the night. "You still here, Lieutenant?"

"Mmhmm," he said, without lifting his eyes from the note.

She looked at the pen in his mouth disdainfully. "Don't do that unless you want a blue lip. Did you get a new case?"

"Fifteen-year old kid with a slit throat and multiple knife wounds. No motive, no suspect. Just this note," he said succinctly, handing it to her. "What do you think?"

She studied the note. "That's a biblical phrase. One of the parables of Jesus."

"That's nice," Squall said impatiently. "What does it mean?"

"Jeez, I dunno. I'm not what you'd call religious. It's basically Jesus's promise to protect the little children. Though I don't think that stabbing them repeatedly falls under that category. Looks like you've got a first-class weirdo on your hands, Leonhart."

Squall snorted. "I'd say."

Quistis handed the note back to him. "Definitely interesting. Speaking of which, I'm assigning you an aide tomorrow."

"Wait, what? No way. I've got way too much to do. Quistis, I mean, _Chief_, this is a huge case…"

"Which is exactly what you need an aide for. It's already done, anyway. She's fresh out of Police Academy, and she's applied for the Detective's Exam. You're going to be her…mentor. Do me a favor, and don't send her running home screaming, OK?"

"She's _just_ out of Academy? You can't be serious," Squall said, shocked. He was forced to be a uniformed officer for _four years_ before they would even consider letting him take the exam…

"We're understaffed ever since Xu and Nida quit, and this city's murder rate has tripled. If you teach her, I know she can pull it off."

"I've got to deal with Zell _and _this girl?" Zell wasn't his aide, but he was troublesome enough on his own.

Quistis shook her head. "Nope. I reassigned Zell. He's with Seifer now."

"You're joking. You realize that they hate each other, right?"

Quistis shrugged. "Despite his other…undesirable qualities, Seifer Almasy has proven to be a first-rate teacher. And Zell needs that, believe me." Quistis shifted into "Badass Police Chief" mode. "What's done is done, and don't you dare mess it up. If you do, I'll know. Now, go home, Lieutenant. That's an order."

She turned on her heel and walked out the door. Squall sighed and picked up his car keys, wondering how he had managed to get himself into this.

* * *

That's all for now. Read and review, and so on, and so forth. I'll introduce more characters in the next chapter.

-peridotaurora


	2. Making Things Happen

Sorry about the wait. I'm updating this in the computer lab of my two-week writing camp.

**Chapter Summary**: Rinoa Heartilly gets a taste of what it's like to work in a police station.

**Warnings**: Not much. A bit o' flirting. That's it.

* * *

"Officer Heartilly. Welcome to the force."

Rinoa's first impression of Chief Quistis Trepe was that she was smooth, and coldly efficient. The long flaxen hair had not a strand out of place, and her work clothes were free of wrinkles. She wore four gold stars on her lapel, the symbol of her rank. Her ice-blue eyes looked both friendly and intense.

"I'm glad to be here," Rinoa responded sincerely, extending a hand to shake.

Quistis shook her newest employee's hand, while simultaneously assessing her looks. A pretty girl, with guileless, wide brown eyes. Hopefully, she would stick it through. Quistis couldn't afford to lose another officer.

"I run a pretty tight ship around here, Officer," Quistis warned. "This job, especially the Homicide department, is not for the faint of heart, mind, nerves, or stomach. You need to be on your toes almost constantly. But I'm sure they told you all about that in Academy…"

"Yes, they did. And I can assure you, I'm up for the job," Rinoa said confidently.

Quistis smiled slightly. She wondered how many times she had heard that. "That's good to hear. We'll see how you live up to that statement. Now, if you want some time to get acquainted with your co-workers before you meet your partner, that can be arranged…"

Rinoa nodded. "I'd like that, thanks."

Quistis sat back down. "Well, I'm frankly too busy to lead you around, but I trust you're capable of finding your way. In the meantime, I'm going to page your partner."

"Oh. Um. Right," Rinoa said bashfully. "Speaking of which…could you tell me a little more about my partner? I'm afraid I don't really have much information to go on. I make it a habit to know a bit about the person I'm going to be working with…"

"Certainly," Quistis answered, leaning back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap. "Lieutenant Squall Leonhart, an excellent cop, been on the force for nine years. He's one of my best. Mind you, he's a little…unusual, for lack of a better word and a bit of a hassle to work with. But I assure you that you will be well prepared for the Detective's Exam. The soonest exam is in 3 months, I believe. That's all. Dismissed."

Rinoa scurried quickly out of Quistis's office and leaned against the wall. "Sheesh!" she said to herself. Quistis gave her the feeling that she was being dissected to her very core.

"Looks like you survived your first encounter with Quistis, Supreme Police Chief of the Universe. Is she a hardass or what?" a friendly voice drawled. The voice belonged to a young-looking man with sea-colored eyes and long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. He held out his hand. "Irvine Kinneas, mounted officer. I mostly do crowd and riot control. Good to meet you."

"Same here," Rinoa said, relieved at meeting a friendly face. "I'm Rinoa, Lieutenant Leonhart's new aide."

Irvine's expression changed to one of mock horror. "No shit? God, you're in for it."

"Huh?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

Irvine rolled his eyes. "I guess you'll see for yourself. Wanna meet the rest of the team before you head for the gallows?"

"I…guess," she said, seriously disturbed by the "gallows" comment.

Irvine grinned. "Cool! Let's go."

He led her through the maze of cubicles by the arm. There was a cacophony of phones ringing, people jabbering, and other noises.

Irvine motioned to a diminutive woman with an eyepatch and choppy silver hair. "That's Fuujin, our forensic scientist. Say hi to our newest member, Fuujin."

"BUSY," Fuujin cut in loudly, striding past them with an armful of blood samples.

"She doesn't talk much," Irvine mused, explaining the obvious. "Let's go on. This is Raijin

_I'm never going to remember all these names,_ Rinoa thought as Irvine introduced her to a flurry of people, all in various degrees of a hurry.

"That's Zell Dincht. He's a newbie detective, almost like you. He passed his Detective's Exam a few months ago. Maybe he could give you some pointers."

Zell, with a coffee in hand, grimaced. "I got reassigned. With _Seifer_ of all people. This is the _fifth_ coffee he told me to get for him. One more, and I'm gonna tell him where he can put it. I'm not a goddamn aide anymore! I have a badge and everything. I really need to have a word with Quistis…"

"Good luck with that," Irvine said sympathetically. "This is Rinoa. She's gonna be Squall's new aide."

Zell raised an eyebrow. "Tough break. I thought I had it bad."

"The guy can't be _that_ bad…can he?" Rinoa said nervously.

Zell and Irvine both laughed. "Guess it depends," Irvine said. "Maybe you're tough, and Zell's just a chickenwuss."

"Don't _ever_ call me that again," Zell said acidly. "I have it bad enough with Seifer. I don't need you doing it, too. Well, good luck, Rinoa. I have to get Lieutenant Asshole his coffee."

"Lieutenant Asshole. I like it," Rinoa joked. Zell winked and left with the coffee.

"There's only one more person for you to meet. Let's go," Irvine said. He led her out of the double doors and into the blinding sunlight.

"Why are we going out here?" Rinoa asked quizzically.

"One of my friends works out here. We're gonna pay her a visit."

He led her to the back of the building, where there was a large system of chain-link fences. Irvine dug a key out of his pocket and unlocked the fence door. In the center of the chain-link catacomb was a young woman kneeling in the center of the floor. She had bright green eyes and impossibly bouncy brunette hair. She was fitting a black vest emblazoned with "K9 unit" on an enormous German Shepherd.

"Hey, sexy! Looking good!" Irvine said slyly.

The brunette whipped around and scowled at him. "That's sexual harassment, Irvine Kinneas, and I'm gonna sic Zeus on you do it again!" A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, showing that she wasn't completely angry.

"Selph, you know how much it turns me on when you threaten me with the dog."

"Oh my God, Irvine, _shut up_. Who's the new girl?" she said, her cheeks pink with flirtatious embarrassment.

"I'm Rinoa."

"Hi! I'm Selphie. This is Zeus," she said, indicating the dog. "Drug and cadaver sniffing extraordinaire. He's the best."

Rinoa smiled gently. "Can I pet him? He's cute."

"Yeah, sure. He's not on duty now, so you can pet him. We try to make it so that they stay totally professional when they're on duty. He doesn't really like Irvine, though. It's 'cause I told him all about you!" she shot at him.

"Don't worry, Selphie, I can work with a little competition."

She rolled her eyes and turned back to Rinoa. "So, yeah, welcome. If he gives you any funny stuff, I'll sort him out for you. That goes for Squall, too, actually."

Rinoa scratched under Zeus's chin. He leaned his head back and narrowed his eyes happily. "What's so bad about him, anyway? I've been hearing bad stuff about him all day and nobody will tell me _what_ I have to look out for."

"Oh, nothing. He's just a jerk. That's all," Selphie said casually.

Irvine blinked. "Well, I wouldn't say _that_…" he said, trying to be fair, but failing.

"Well, I've worked with him for _three_ years, and he's never said _one_ nice thing to me. Not a 'How are you?' or 'How was your vacation?' Nothing. Talk about mean!" she complained.

"It's not just that. He's very…_intense_," Irvine added. "He's been at this job for nine years. It's like, his life. He throws _everything_ into it. The force comes first for him, no matter what. He won't say why."

"He doesn't take vacation days," Selphie said, in a hushed tone. "Not one since his first day. I think he's got like, two years of vacation time racked up. I mean, jeez. Wish he'd share the wealth. Mine are all used up."

"That sounds…strange," Rinoa admitted. "But it doesn't sound unbearable."

Irvine and Selphie glanced at each other, and shrugged.

"Maybe," Selphie said.

"Depends on your definition of unbearable," Irvine suggested.

* * *

A frazzled-looking young woman with curly hair frizzing out of her loose ponytail poked her head out of the station door. "Rinoa? Chief sent me out here to get you. She wants you in her office."

"Oh, thanks, um…" Rinoa said, trying desperately to think of the name. She vaguely recognized the woman as the desk sergeant. It started with an 'M', she knew. "Erm…Molly? Yeah, Molly! I'm, uh, I'm working on names."

Molly nodded slowly and went back inside.

"I guess it's to meet up with Squall," Irvine said. "I'll walk you there if you want."

"You _man-_whore!" Selphie exclaimed.

Rinoa laughed. "I think I can find it, thanks. You've been a lot of help." She stood up and ran, with heels nonetheless, back towards the station.

"That's what I'm here for," Irvine called after her.

When the door closed, Selphie said, "I hope she'll be okay. She's so nice."

"Well, according to Squall, 'This job isn't about being nice.' Damn, that's a pretty good imitation of him, isn't it?" Irvine joked. "But yeah," he continued. "It'd be really cool if she makes it."

* * *

"Lieutenant Leonhart, Officer Rinoa Heartilly," Quistis said, motioning from one to the other. "Now that we've made introductions, we can get onto business. Officer Heartilly is going to take the Detective's Exam in three months, as she very well knows. Lieutenant, your job is to make sure that she's prepared for that in the best way possible. Her performance will reflect on _your_ performance. Clear?"

"Yes," Rinoa piped up, sneaking a sidelong glance at her new partner and was pleasantly surprised. When she had heard her new co-workers talking about Lieutenant Leonhart, she had pictured a middle-aged, red-faced man who shouted a lot. But in reality, her partner was not middle-aged, red-faced, and she couldn't picture him shouting about anything. There was no emotion in his cool, blue eyes. His hair was brown and slightly unkempt, coming down to his collar. Shadows stained the skin below his eyes, a sign of exhaustion.

"Lieutenant Leonhart will brief you outside of my office. Then, you can do whatever you choose. Lieutenant, I expect a full report on my desk tomorrow. Dismissed."

When they were out of Quistis's office, Rinoa exhaled and cheerfully said, "She makes me _so_ nervous!"

Squall gave no sign of even hearing or caring about what his new aide had just said. "Alright, let's make this quick. I'm going to brief you on this, and then we can go make things happen." His voice was slow and bored. "We've got a possible serial killer on our hands. Probable mental disturbance. Killed a 15-year old boy. The only current piece of evidence is a note. Got it so far?"

Rinoa blinked. The facts were coming at her too fast. She had expected some sort of…welcoming? Orientation? That sort of thing. But that wasn't the way that Squall apparently operated.

"I'll take that as a yes. Let's go."

"Where are we going?" she asked his retreating back.

He didn't so much as turn around. "We're going to make things happen."

* * *

Slow goings there, I know. This was a fun little character introduction. But things will speed up in the next chapter, I'll make sure of it. 


	3. It's Time You Lost Your Little Fantasy

**Disclaimer: **This hasn't changed.

**Warnings**: Swearing.

**Chapter Summary: **Rinoa gets an idea of what it's like to work with Squall as the pair chases various leads.

**The Force**

**Chapter Three**

* * *

"Did your brother mention anything or anyone suspicious before he died?"

"Um…no. Yes. I don't remember," May Iverson, sister of Jason Iverson said uncertainly.

Squall could almost feel his impatience shoot through the roof. If there was anything he hated about this job, it was interviewing.

"No, definitely not. No one suspicious," May decided suddenly.

Squall clenched and unclenched his fists. "Alright. I've already asked your mother this, but…do you know anyone who'd like to _hurt_ your brother?"

May's face suddenly collapsed from grief. "No. There's no one," she said, her voice quivering.

"Okay. Those are all the questions I have for you now. If I need anything else from you, I'll let you know."

May looked back up at him. "You're going to find him, right? The person who did this to my little brother."

To Rinoa, it was so heart-wrenching that she had to look away. But Squall merely brushed it off and said, "To the best of my ability."

* * *

"Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_," Eveann Kadowaki said, shaking her head dismally.

"Prints, DNA, hair, _sweat_? You're saying that you found none of it?" Squall repeated.

"It all belonged to the victim. There's not a trace of anything else. Don't get a case like this too often, do you?" Eveann said, almost relishing the prospect of difficulty.

Squall sniffed. "It's not too much to get excited about, Doctor."

Dr. Kadowaki shrugged. "We're not much different, you and I. We love the intricacies of what people do. We get a high when we solve it. It's pretty simple."

Squall ignored the fact that she was not in the least correct. "Philosophy aside, what _did_ you find?"

Eveann removed her plastic gloves and threw them into a metal trash can. "I told you, nothing that you don't already know about. Hey," she said, finally noticing Rinoa standing in a corner. "Who's this? Did you finally get a girlfriend?"

Turning bright red, Rinoa rushed forward and offered the doctor her hand. "No, I'm uh, I'm Lieutenant Leonhart's new aide, Rinoa Heartilly. Nice to meet you, Doctor."

"And you, too," Kadowaki said generously. "Well, you're a welcome sight for sore eyes. I gotta say, you're _much_ prettier than Zell," she said, chuckling at her little joke.

Squall snorted, then tossed his head towards the door. "Let's go, Heartilly, we've got nothing to do here."

"Have fun getting used to _him_," Dr. Kadowaki said in an undertone as the Lieutenant and his aide exited the morgue.

* * *

"Well, jeez," Rinoa moaned, as they were in the squad car later that afternoon. "People today were _no help_. No help! How do you get anything _done_ around here?"

Her partner didn't look at her, only started the car. It sputtered a few times until the engine finally started humming. "You have to know how to look," was all he said.

She watched him as he put in gear and backed out into the street. "People say that you're really good at this," she said awkwardly.

He didn't answer, just tapped his finger restlessly on the steering wheel, as if he was bored by her.

She shifted in her seat. "I mean, I'm glad. I hope it's true. I want to learn from the best. And people say you're the best."

"People talk," he said simply, not taking his eyes off the road.

She sighed with frustration. "Well, anyways, I'm really glad that you're the one preparing me for the exam."

"Mmhmm," he said dismissively, flicking his left turn signal. "I hate this damn car. It's a living remnant of the fucking Stone Age."

She laughed, a short burst of humor. "So why don't you get a new one?"

"I can't until I total this one. Believe me, I'm very tempted, but I'd have to pay a fee."

She fiddled with the belt loop on her slacks. "Um, so where do we go from here? I mean, we got nothing today. What are we gonna do?"

"Well, aren't you conventional," he said acerbically. "When you're a detective, you never think in straight, black-and-white lines. That's Lesson Number One. It's not your _job_ to think like normal people. Got it?"

"Well, yeah," she said awkwardly. "But I mean…"

"Killers are not _normal_ people. There's always something different, no matter how slight, about each and every one of them. And _your_ job is to use that to your advantage."

She merely stared at him. His blue eyes still weren't looking at hers, but at the road ahead with fierce, blazing intensity.

"Knowing how a killer thinks, knowing their _style_ is the only way that you're gonna survive this job. If you can't do that, it all goes down the drain."

Rinoa looked at her hands and looked back up at Squall. "So, what do you think?"

"What do I think about what?"

"What do you think about _this_ guy? Give me the details. What do you think is unique about this guy?"

Squall snorted. "Other than the fact that he kills random kids?"

"No, I mean…why? What is your first gut instinct?"

Squall rubbed his forehead. "He's meticulous. There wasn't _any_ physical evidence at the scene, so he's either a doctor or he's done this before. And I'm gonna have to draw a spiritual connection based on the note. Maybe he's really religious or just a priest. They get all weird when it comes to kids, I wouldn't rule it out."

"That's an awful lot of assumptions," Rinoa said, faltering. Was this how the great Lieutenant Leonhart really worked?

"I'm just getting started," he said, laughing humorlessly. "All murder investigations start out as assumptions. Once you find one that actually _works_, you go from there."

She sat back in her seat. "I didn't know that it worked like that," she said quietly.

"Oh, what, have I ruined the dream for you? Well, this is it. There's no grandeur or bravado to any of it. It's cold guesswork, then the rest is based on that cold guesswork. This is the real thing," he said harshly.

"Oh, come on!" she cried. "That can't be it. Everybody at the station took an oath to serve and protect to the best of their ability, and you're saying that it's just like a guessing game! That's just like an insult to the profession."

He sneered. "You sound like Quistis. Or the fucking handbook. It's time that you lost your little fantasy, OK?"

She glared at him. "Don't talk down to me."

"I can talk down to you all I want. I'm the lieutenant, you're my underling. You don't like it, you can leave."

Rinoa made an angry sound and turned away from him. "You know, you really disappointed me."

"And you're exactly what I expected you to be," Squall replied coolly.

* * *

"I'm guessing that it didn't go well?" Irvine offered, as Rinoa walked into the station with a furious expression.

"If I hadn't wanted to do this since I was a little girl, I would have turned in my badge and quit. Ugh!" she said, flinging down a manila folder onto her new desk. "He's _so_ annoying!"

"Looks like you know what we're talking about now."

"A bit too well," she agreed. "God…this job was my dream…"

Irvine frowned. "Whaddaya mean _'was_' your dream? It's still your dream! Just because you're saddled up with a royal asshole doesn't mean you have to give stuff up."

"Wouldn't be me you're talking about, would it?" a dry voice said dully.

"What's up, Lieutenant?" Irvine said cheerfully, acting as if the situation had never happened.

"Save it, cowboy. I need to talk with Heartilly."

"You can say it in front of Irvine," Rinoa said hotly.

But Irvine shook his head. "Well, it's obvious that _Lieutenant_ doesn't want me around," he said, pronouncing the title with emphasized disgust. "I'll just go."

"Hey, I was talking to someone," she said to Squall indignantly.

"Shit happens. Anyway, we've got something."

Rinoa planted her hands on her hips and tried to look down at him, even though he was a head taller than her. "Well, what is it?"

He jerked his head towards the exit. "Get back in the car. We've got a witness."

"What!" she whined. "We just got _out_ of the car."

"Like I said, shit happens."

* * *

"You really think I'm ready to try interviewing?" Rinoa said excitedly.

"Do I think you're ready? To be honest, no. But I've had as much interviewing as I can take today, so I'm making you do it."

She scowled and muttered something inaudible.

"Just don't mess up," he said. "Get what he saw, then get out. Push if you need to."

She turned away, still angry at him.

"Oh, cut it out. I could make you do paperwork," he warned.

She was at the door faster than he could say, "Go!"

The witness, Stu Hines, was a balding man with a sizeable stomach. When he answered the door and saw Rinoa, he immediately got a lecherous expression on his face.

"Afternoon, sweetheart. What can I do ya for?" he said, scratching at the stubble on his chin.

Before Rinoa could answer politely, Squall flashed the badge and said, "Lieutenant Leonhart and Officer Heartilly, Balamb Police Department. You say you've got some information for us regarding the Iverson murder?"

Stu Hines blinked. "Well, yeah, but…"

"Fabulous. Care to let us in?" Squall interrupted.

Stu obligingly stepped back and let Rinoa and Squall in. It was a dark house, only illuminated by the bluish light of a portable, battery-operated TV screen.

"I live the simple life," Hines said apologetically.

"I can see," Squall said. "Officer Heartilly's going to ask you some questions." He flicked a light switch, but nothing happened. "And I'd take care of the electricity bills, while you're at it."

Stu reddened. Rinoa frowned at her partner, cleared her throat, and sat down. "This won't take long, Mr. Hines."

"Shoot," Stu said, obviously cheered by the idea of being interviewed by an attractive police officer.

"Mr. Hines, um…did you know Jason Iverson?"

"Well, sure. He sold Boy Scout popcorn every year. 'Course, I never bought that crap, but he was a real nice kid. Mowed my lawn once."

Rinoa nodded. "Alright. So…can you tell us what you witnessed?"

Hines thought for a minute. "Hm…well, it was about ten at night. The game had just ended. Then they cut my power. That's some kinda luck, huh? Anyway, I heard a noise and went outside to check. It was really hard to see 'cuz all the streetlights were out. So yeah. I saw someone standing outside the Iverson's window, but I just went inside."

Rinoa blinked. "You went inside? Did he look suspicious?"

"Well, I couldn't _see_ him that great," Stu shrugged. "I didn't know what he was doing."

"Did you get an idea of his appearance?" she asked.

"Um…he was big. Tall."

"Big and tall," Rinoa said disbelievingly. "Anything…else?"

"No, not really. He was bald, I think."

"…Okay," Rinoa said, holding in a sigh. "I think we're finished here, Mr. Hines. Thank you very much."

"No, thank _you_," Stu said, winking.

* * *

"Big, tall and _bald_. That's frickin' fabulous," Squall said with disgust when they were in the car later. "What the hell are we supposed to do with that?"

"I don't know," Rinoa agreed quietly. "I didn't like him very much."

"Yeah, lazy slobs aren't high on my list of favorite people either."

"It's not that," Rinoa said exasperatedly. "It's…he could have stopped all this. If you saw someone unfamiliar standing outside of your neighbor's window, wouldn't you _do_ something? He could have saved the Iverson kid's life."

Squall casually nudged the steering wheel to the right. "What people _should_ do and what they _actually_ do aren't always the same thing."

"What's that saying again? 'Do not stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds.' Is that it?"

"What _is_ it with people and Bible quotes nowadays?" Squall remarked.

Rinoa blushed. "It was a slogan for a peace rally that I went to," she mumbled.

He was silent for a minute. Then he said, "People do just do nothing when their neighbors get hurt. It's human nature. That Hines guy, depraved and annoying as he was, is just human."

"I've had enough of your philosophy," she muttered, slumping against the window.

"I've had enough of your optimism, if we're all sharing," he replied calmly.

"This job is really screwed up for me and it's only been the first day," she thought out loud.

To her surprise, he laughed. "Welcome to the force."

* * *

See you next time. the next one will be a shorter wait, i think.


	4. Get It Together

**Disclaimer: **Still no ownage.

**Chapter Warnings: **Swearing.

**Chapter Summary**: The killer strikes again, and the BPD is getting anxious. Rinoa starts to warm up to her partner, who is struggling with his darkest secret.

**The Force**

**Chapter Four

* * *

**

It was 1:30 in the morning. Squall was on his third cup of coffee. _You know, things would be so much easier if I just had an IV installed or something._

He was wiped from a day of irritating questions and irritating people. That new aide of his? Definitely annoying, he agreed with himself. She pushed his buttons in a way that not even Seifer could manage.

The sound of a cup clinking reverberated through the empty house as Squall set his mug down onto the table. Things were so quiet here, just the way he liked it.

The ringing of his phone punctured the silence. He picked it up. "This better be important," he growled, as if he was in the middle of an intolerably busy schedule. In reality, he just didn't like to be bothered.

"You're gonna want to come down here. Now," a smooth and utterly annoying voice said urgently.

"What happened, Seifer?" Squall asked.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know. 6822 Haverton Avenue. Be there or be square." Squall could almost hear Seifer smirking.

"Shut up, Seifer. I'll be there in ten."

"Don't forget to bring the new blood."

Squall sighed. "Fuck. I forgot. Yeah, I'll bring her too."

* * *

Rinoa jack-knifed into a sitting position when her phone rang at 1:45 AM. She made a mental note to strangle whoever was calling as she picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she said, forcing her eyes open.

"Morning. I'm picking you up in five."

"_What_? Squall, are you drunk? Do you know what time it is?" she snapped, yawning.

"It happens to be…1:47. Get ready."

Rinoa muttered some not-very-nice curses under her breath as she flung her duvets off of her. "I swear, this better be worth it…" she warned.

"What, you think I'm doing this for my health?" Then he hung up.

* * *

"Tia Montano, aged twelve. Fast asleep at time of death, which was 12:45 A.M. Cause of death, strangulation. 911 call phoned in by a babysitter." Zell was rattling off the facts, deliberately trying not to look at the body. Tia, a petite golden-skinned girl, was cradled in her bed, a handsome red silk necktie tied around her neck. There was another broken window, right next to the bed.

Seifer was standing by the victim, head cocked, a note in hand. "For you, Lieutenant," he said, handing the note to Squall with a mock flourish. "It was already screened for prints. The guy's been wearing gloves."

Squall unfolded the note. It was written in the same handwriting as the "suffer little children" note:

_Lieutenant Leonhart,_

_I am quite disappointed at the lack of effort you have put into finding me. After all the great things I've heard about you, I expected much more. Who knows? Maybe you need more motivation, which I can certainly provide. Be warned, Lieutenant, your time will come._

Squall tossed the note back to Seifer. It was nothing new. People targeted him all the time.

"What do you think?" Seifer asked.

"What is there to think? Although I _do_ find special enjoyment in cuffing the people who want me dead," Squall replied.

"If Quistis finds out, she'll put you under a 24-hour guard," Seifer warned.

"I forgot. Damn that Quistis, always concerned about the safety of her staff," he said sarcastically.

"I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want Trepe's cronies standing over me when I sleep," Seifer retorted. "You'd better be careful. Where's Heartilly, anyway?"

"I sent her to interview the babysitter. She's pretty useful for that kind of thing. Maybe it's because she's a girl," Squall shrugged.

"Or maybe it's because she's not a jackass," Seifer offered, sneering.

"Could be. Bag her and send it to Eveann. Run the tie. Even though she's probably not gonna find anything…"

"Since when can you give _me_ orders?"

"Since someone died and made me in charge," Squall shot back, mirroring Seifer's smirk. "Have fun with that, I've got an aide to baby-sit."

* * *

"The sitter was Christine Frost, 16 years old. She was downstairs when Montano was murdered. Poor thing," Rinoa said, shaking her head. "She thought it was all her fault."

"Well, in a way, it kind of is. She was supposed to be watching the kid."

Rinoa glared at him. "Tia was asleep. And if Christine was up there, then the murderer would have gotten _her_ too. Jeez. And what did _you_ get?"

"Nothing, just a tie and a death threat. You?"

"Me neither. Wait, what? A death threat?"

"I get them all the time. What did the babysitter give?"

"I can't believe you…" she said disbelievingly.

"Will you tell me what the babysitter said or do I have to get it myself!" he said irritably, rubbing his eye. He needed sleep. Or an ungodly amount of coffee.

Rinoa sighed and gave him another look. "She didn't give us much because she was really freaking out. She said that the parents were at a dinner party and she was paid to stay there until one. She didn't hear anything, not even the window breaking. They're going to have to give her a sedative or something to calm her down. I'll question her more later."

"Lovely. And who got the job of telling the parents?"

Rinoa winced and looked away. "I did." She looked down and blinked several times. She didn't want to dwell on the image of Tia Montano's devastated parents.

He glanced at her. "You're going to have to get used to doing that eventually," he chided.

"Leave me alone," she said, her voice husky with sadness and embarrassment. "Just because you have a heart of stone doesn't mean the rest of us do."

"Did I say anything about that? All I'm saying is that you're going to have to get used to telling family members. We're supposed to be strictly objective, remember?"

She didn't answer him, still glaring at the ground.

He looked heavenward. "Jesus. I'm sorry, alright?"

"No, you're not," she muttered dismissively. "What about the tie?"

"Seifer's going to give it to Fuujin so she can run it. We'll have the results tomorrow morning."

"Great," she said flatly. "Take me home, Lieutenant."

* * *

"Better rest up for another round on the question circuit," Squall said dryly, when they had reached Rinoa's house.

Rinoa groaned. "You're gonna make me interview again, aren't you?"

"Bingo. And as an added bonus, Quistis wants to see us in her office tomorrow morning. Something about a press conference."

"Agh!" Rinoa grumbled. "That's some kind of luck we've got…"

She opened the car door, then turned back to him. "Wanna come in?" she offered.

"No."

"I've got coffee…" she sang, aiming for the weak spot.

"Fine. Five minutes." He got out of the car. "That was a cheap shot."

She giggled and mock-curtsied. "Thank you very much, good sir. You want a coffee with that cheap shot?"

"Shut up, Heartilly."

* * *

Rinoa's house was very feminine in a contemporary way. There were scented candles on the mantelpiece. Wind chimes tinkled on the porch. It all made Squall slightly uncomfortable.

"I suppose you're used to pulling all-nighters," she said, plying him with coffee. "Is that another thing that I'll have to get accustomed to?"

"Unfortunately, yes." He took a sip, the caffeine buzzing through his system. "Looks like they didn't tell you what you were up against in Academy."

She stared at the pattern on her oak table. "No, they didn't," she said, after hesitating. "…Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Rinoa traced her finger around the rim of her coffee cup. "Do you ever…have trouble sleeping at night?" she asked quietly.

He didn't answer, staring out of the kitchen window.

She looked down, her cheeks flushing. "I mean, for me…I've only been on the force for two days. And I already feel like I've seen too much. I saw a picture of Jason Iverson's body, and Tia Montano's too. And now I feel like I'll see those pictures forever." She took a ragged breath. "I mean, how do you sleep?"

She stared at him, realizing how very young he was. He couldn't have reached thirty yet. And he looked so tired, as if the dark circles under his eyes would never disappear.

Then she noticed the scar. Two inches long, a dangerous white in the poor light of her kitchen, almost slicing his face in two. Why hadn't she noticed it before? She averted her eyes quickly.

He still didn't look at her. "If you're having trouble sleeping, take pills."

"You didn't answer my question," she accused.

He smiled at her, but it was strained and almost sad. "I don't have an answer."

* * *

"I never thought I'd have to ask _you_ this question, Lieutenant Leonhart. But _what_ exactly are you doing to find the killer of Iverson and Montano?"

Quistis looked livid, but unruffled. It was one of the things that Rinoa admired about her. "You have a press conference at 11:00, and you've got nothing. How do you plan to pull this off, Lieutenant?" Quistis snapped.

Quistis's glare would have melted rock, but Squall's face stayed expressionless. "I'm running the murder weapon. Fuujin's giving me the results in half an hour."

"And what is the murder weapon?"

"A necktie, used for strangulation."

Quistis closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Squall…this is a Class Five investigation. And you're running around investigating _neckties_?"

Squall put his hands on Quistis's desk and leaned forward intently.

_How the hell does he do it? _Rinoa wondered.

"Tell me, _Chief_, am I a good cop?" Squall demanded, his eyes blazing.

Quistis gave him a grudging look. "The best I've ever had. But Leonhart…"

"Then just trust me," he interrupted, straightening up again. "I've got interviews booked all day, and as for the press conference? I've got it under control."

He turned and strode out, signaling for Rinoa to follow him.

"_Wow_!" she crowed, when they were out of Chief Trepe's earshot. "Did you see the look on her face? How did you _do_ that?"

"I've worked with her for nine years," Squall said nonchalantly.

"Man! If _I_ had tried that, she would have sent me packing. You're good, Squall," she marveled.

Squall snorted. "She may not look like it, but she's desperate. You could stomp all over her and waltz right out of the door."

"You're joking."

"You'd be surprised at how many times I've done it," he shrugged.

"Anyway, do you _really_ have the press conference under control?" she asked.

"I said that?" He blinked.

"Uh, _yeah_! Barely one minute ago!" she exclaimed.

"Well," he said, after thinking for a while. "I suppose it's not really a question of _me _having it under control, but do _you_ have it under control?" He smiled wickedly.

Rinoa's jaw dropped. "I can't believe you…"

"Come on, Heartilly, let's go get ready for your press conference."

"You _jerk_!" she whined, before following him to his office.

* * *

"How exactly were Jason Iverson and Tia Montano killed?"

"Have you found any evidence yet?"

"Are the murders connected in any way?"

Rinoa's head was starting to hurt. This was like being thrown in a proverbial lion's den. The eyes of the reporters were raw, hungry for information. _Sure, they mean well, but they're still a royal pain,_ Rinoa thought.

"The Balamb Police Department is unable to release any further details of these investigations, seeing as they're still in the early stages and of a sensitive nature," she recited, recalling what Squall had told her to say.

This angered the reporters. "Miss Heartilly, the public has a right to know!"

"That is all the information the station is willing to release at the current time," she said, coloring slightly.

They were angry, frustrated, ready to rip her apart. She was delirious with relief when Squall placed a hand on her shoulder and gently steered her away from the microphone. "I believe that Officer Heartilly's already told you what you're allowed to know. Both Jason Iverson and Tia Montano were brutally killed in cold blood by a dangerous criminal. All evidence _will_ remain classified," he said curtly. "As primary investigator of this case, I will personally not rest until I've found a more definitive lead to this killer. As far as priorities go, my first one is to find him rather than to trade blows with representatives of the media, and you can quote me on that."

He turned and left, the reporters still shouting questions at his back. Rinoa, slightly dazed, followed him to the car.

"My hero. I owe you one," she said gratefully, when she slid into the passenger seat. "Wait, no I don't. _You're_ the one who made me do that in the first place!"

"You're going to have to deal with the media eventually," Squall said sourly, starting the engine. "Let's go to the lab and see what Eveann and Fuujin found."

* * *

"So, what'd the tie give us?" Rinoa asked Fuujin.

"HERE," Fuujin said, thrusting a bundle of papers into Rinoa's hands. She walked off.

Rinoa blinked, bewildered. "Is she always like that, or does she just not like me?"

"No clue," Squall said, taking the papers from her. "Looks like only one store carried the tie. Willingdon's."

"Jeez! That's an awful lot to be spending on a tie," Rinoa exclaimed, gaping at the price. "If I had that much money, I wouldn't be running around and strangling kids."

He shot her a look and went back to the paper. "Alright. It's a customer log, the people who bought that specific tie."

"Way to go, Fuujin!" Rinoa said appreciatively to no one in particular.

Squall read the list and furrowed his brow. "That doesn't make any sense."

"What doesn't?" she asked, peering over his shoulder. "What…?"

Eduardo Montano, Tia's father, was fifth on the list.

"So he's our guy!" Rinoa exclaimed triumphantly. "We've got him!"

"Hold it, Heartilly," Squall said impatiently. "It doesn't fit."

"Why not?"

"For a ton of reasons. One, the broken window. Why would he need to break a window to get into his own house? Two, he has a solid alibi. He was at the dinner party with his wife, the wife and the party guests confirmed it. Three, he's not bald, like the Hines guy said. Montano had more hair than most _women_ do, and he was a head shorter than you. He's not our guy."

"Damn," Rinoa muttered. "So the tie was a plant?"

He tipped his head to the side. "_Exactly_."

"But the murder and Montano could have the same tie," she pointed out.

"We'll have to investigate that, too."

Rinoa groaned. "_Man_. We're not nearly done, are we?"

"Score one for Heartilly," he said, smirking.

"I hate being right," she grumbled.

* * *

_What should I do?_

_Run, hide! Stay where you are! Get out!_

_Commands were bouncing around in Squall's head as he cowered under his blanket. The yelling, the sounds of fighting coming from downstairs were ringing in his ears._

_His bedroom door was thrown open, his sister stumbled in. "Hide!" she choked out, her words drowned by blood._

_"Ellie--"_

_"Go," she sobbed, but the man came and snuffed her out before Squall could even move._

Squall jerked awake from his dream. He glanced at the clock. The LCD screen read 5:04 AM.

He put a hand to his colorless face. "God…" he breathed. His chest was heaving and he was covered with cold sweat.

Squall slowly lifted himself out of bed. _Get it together_. He never, _ever_ let anyone see him lose control like this.

He was lucky that the dream had stopped at that point. It usually went on for several more agonizing minutes.

The sun was peeking out from beyond the hills. He had to go to work in two hours. He and Rinoa had interviewed Montano's family members, and several owners of the suspicious tie. Nothing.

_I'm losing it_, he thought. _What the hell is up with me? _Usually, he would have a killer incarcerated by now. It was what he was known for. But this one seemed to be laughing in his face.

He rubbed his exhausted eyes. _If you're having trouble sleeping, take pills_. That was the advice that he had given to Rinoa. _I can't. I haven't sunk that far yet. I can't let this control me._

_Oh, but it's gone so far beyond that. I still see his face everywhere, and it's been nineteen years._

Rinoa had asked him how he could sleep. He hadn't told her that he didn't sleep, couldn't sleep, and that if he slept, he would be lost in his nightmare.

He sighed. This was how he was at night. Sometime during the day, on the way to work, he would make the transformation to Lieutenant Leonhart: stony, unfeeling, brilliant police detective.

* * *

this one was a bit longer, I think, so there you go! See ya next time.


	5. The Dry Cleaner of Death

**Disclaimer**: Really, you think I miraculously gained ownership of FFVIII overnight?

**Chapter Warning:** Swearing.

**Chapter Summary:** Something strange happens to Squall, and the pair finally get a definitive lead.

**The Force**

**Chapter Five

* * *

**

Getting up in the morning was extremely ritualistic for Squall. He would strap his three holsters on (ankle, waist, and shoulder) and then dress. Black jeans, a white shirt, a leather jacket. Every day, no matter the weather. He was a creature of habit.

He checked his mail in the morning, too. Bills, junk mail, and…bills. But today, there was a nondescript slip of paper nestled in between the bills, with a message written in rather familiar handwriting.

_I'VE FOUND YOU._

It was, Squall thought, quite a change in the ritual indeed.

* * *

"You aren't looking too hot, Lieutenant," Rinoa said, offering her partner a coffee.

"Good morning to you, too," he answered, taking it.

She watched him. "I think you're working too hard," she remarked.

"There's no such thing."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd say that. Cut it, Squall, you look terrible," she said disapprovingly.

"While I'd love to sit here and listen to your abuse, we've got work to do. Give this to Fuujin," he said, handing her a plastic bag with a slip of paper in it. "Have her run it."

When his back was turned, Rinoa peered into the bag and read the note. "…Squall?" she said faintly, her face turning pale.

"What?" he said impatiently.

"Where did you find this?"

"Does it matter? Go run it. It's evidence."

"_Where did you find it_?" she demanded shrilly. Squall blinked. Rinoa had a dangerous expression on her face. He almost could have laughed if he wasn't a tiny bit intimidated by it.

He rolled his eyes. "My house."

Rinoa immediately dropped the dangerous expression. "Jesus…_Squall_!" she cried. "Do you have any idea how serious this is? I thought you were supposed to be a smart cop!"

"Am I a dumb cop because I'm not freaking out?"

She jabbed his chest with her index finger. "You're a dumb cop because someone is after your _life_ and you don't even care!"

"Hey, watch it," he said, backing away. "Will you just go run the damn thing? If I find out who it is, then I won't need to worry."

She glared at him. "I'm telling Quistis about this," she threatened, then turned around and walked towards the Chief's office.

Squall grabbed her by the arm. "No, you're not. Tell her, and face my wrath."

She yanked her arm away. "I'll take my chances. I'd rather face your wrath than have you die, OK?"

"That's sweet and everything, but we're going to do this my way," he said dryly.  
She looked at him suspiciously. "Your way?"

"Yeah, the Squall Leonhart way, with a proven 100 success rate," Squall said in a mock-pleasant voice.

"And what exactly does your way involve doing?"

"Just shut up and run the damn note."

* * *

"Eduardo Montano, you own a tie like this, right?" Squall dangled the red silk necktie between his fingers.

Eduardo, a small man with beady eyes, blinked. "Well, yes. As a matter of fact, that _is_ my tie." Awareness dawned on Eduardo's face. "You think I killed Tia…"

"Mr. Montano…"

"_No_!" Eduardo screamed, jumping to his feet. "I would _never_ kill my daughter. I was at the dinner party! I loved my daughter! How _dare_ you--"

"Mr. Montano, I know you didn't kill Tia, alright? Sit down," Squall said exasperatedly. "What I need to know is if anyone besides you and Mrs. Montano had access to your clothes."

"Well…" Mr. Montano said, slowly sinking down into his chair. "Carla, the housekeeper does. But she was off for the night…"

"When's the last time you got this dry-cleaned?" Squall interrupted.

Eduardo pondered. "Last week, I think. But I haven't used it since then."

"And what's the name of your dry-cleaner?"

Rinoa stifled a laugh. The idea of a _dry-cleaner_ running around and killing their client's kids was a bit too much for her. Squall shot her an aggravated look.

"Um…it's Tim. Tim Monroe. Why?" Montano said curiously.

"Nothing. Thanks for the info, Mr. Montano, we'll be going now," Squall said, standing up.

Montano stared at him. "I hope you find that son of a bitch. I'll do anything to help you do it."

"He's as good as ours," Rinoa assured. "Right, Squall?" Squall looked at her strangely. She nudged him and he nodded.

"Right."

* * *

"You're _joking_," Rinoa said, once they had exited the Montano home and entered the car. "You think the dry-cleaner did it?"

"It's a possibility. But I'm going to see if the Iversons used him. Then we can go from there."

"Jeez," Rinoa said cheerfully. "I can just see it now. 'The Dry-cleaner of _Death_.' Ha ha! Kiss my ass, you know that's funny."

Squall rolled his eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time that day.

She nudged him again. "If you do that too much, your eyes will get stuck that way," she chided.

"What kind of medical advice is _that_?" Squall said incredulously.

Rinoa grinned. "The Rinoa Heartilly advice, with a proven 100 success rate," she said, echoing his voice from before.

He rolled his eyes again, just to spite her.

* * *

"Mrs. Iverson, if you don't mind me asking…what is the name of your dry-cleaner?" Squall asked.

Rinoa had to turn around so that Mrs. Iverson wouldn't see her struggling not to laugh.

Mrs. Iverson raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to ask my husband. And not to be rude, but is that significant at all?"

"More than you know. Get your husband for me."

Mrs. Iverson rose and exited the room, calling for her husband.

"This is insane," Rinoa said, shaking her head and smiling. "She must think we're joking."

"Maybe it's because you keep _laughing_," Squall shot back. "Maybe _that's_ why she's not taking us seriously."

"Well, it's funny, OK?" Rinoa said, giggling.

Squall turned his back to her as Mr. Michael Iverson came in. He was a tall man, retaining some vestiges of handsomeness. Evidently, grief had ravaged him. "What's this about? Ella said that you needed…our dry-cleaner?"

"Yes, and despite what your wife may have said, this is important," Squall said. "The name?"

"It's Timothy Monroe…but why?" Michael asked wearily.

"And what's the name of the facility?" Squall asked, ignoring Iverson's question.

"Squeaky Clean Dry Cleaning. Lieutenant Leonhart…will this help find Jason's killer?"

Squall didn't look at him. "That's what I'm trying to find out too, Mr. Iverson. Thanks. We'll be in touch. Come on, Heartilly."

Michael Iverson watched the two officers as they left his house. His wife came and sat beside him. "Isn't he supposed to be a genius?" Ella muttered.

"Yeah," he said, taking his wife's hand.

"He's a bit unconventional. I mean, our dry-cleaner? What the hell?"

Michael sighed. "Honey, I just want him to find the guy. I don't care how he does it, as long as he does it."

* * *

"Squall, I'm not taking one more step until you tell me what you're thinking," Rinoa threatened, planting herself right in front of the door to Squeaky Clean Dry Cleaning. "I'm your partner, I have to be let in on this too."

"For one thing, you're not my partner, you're my aide," he said impatiently.

"Same difference. Tell me what's up with the dry-cleaner."

Squall looked heavenward and sighed. "Fine." They sat on a bench right outside the dry-cleaning building.

"I think that the dry-cleaner may be linked to the murder in some way. Montano said that he hadn't seen his tie since he got it dry-cleaned. You know, the dry-cleaner could have kept it."

"But what about Iverson? Monroe didn't steal any of _their_ clothes," Rinoa pointed out.

"Right. But it's still suspicious. They both use him. It's a link between the two victims. Look, I just wanna interview the guy. Shine the light in all the dark corners, you know? Then after that, we can get the results on the note that was left at my house. Deal?"

"Deal," Rinoa agreed. "See, was that so horrible?"

"Don't get any more ideas, Heartilly," Squall warned. "Come on, let's go."

A bell tinkled as the pair entered the empty dry-cleaner's. The only sources of noise in the whole building were the ceiling fans chugging overhead and the vapid music that played softly in the background. The only soul in the whole place was a thin man standing at the register, flipping through a magazine.

"Would you be Tim Monroe?" Squall asked, his voice piercing the hushed atmosphere of the room. He flashed his badge, with a casual flick of the wrist.

The man looked up and narrowed his eyes, as most people did when seeing cops. "Am I gonna need my lawyer for this?" he said, his voice thin and grating.

"Not unless you want an overwhelming indication of your guilt," Squall said calmly. "You're not being charged for anything, Tim. You're just answering a few questions."

_He's not our guy_, Squall thought. Tim was too thin, and he had a shock of vivid red hair, which ruled him out based on Stu Hines's description.

However, he did have the eyes. Squall had looked into the eyes of a criminal more times than he could count, and Tim definitely had them. Cagey, beady, piercing. They made Squall tense up and sharpen his reflexes.

Squall pulled the tie out from his bag and held it up to Tim. "Recognize this?"

Tim squinted at it. "I clean a ton of ties like that," he said derisively.

"One of your clients is Eduardo Montano, am I right?" Squall continued.

Tim nodded. "Yeah, the name sounds familiar. Came here just a week ago, I think. Gave me some work shirts to clean, no starch."

"But you kept the tie," Squall said quietly.

"What?"

"You kept the tie. Eduardo Montano gave you the tie to clean and you didn't give it back."

Tim shrugged. "So he couldn't keep track of it. I didn't keep it."

"The last time Eduardo Montano saw this tie was when he gave it to you to clean. A week later, it was used to kill his 12 year-old daughter. That doesn't seem strange to you?" Squall asked.

Tim gave him a dirty look. "It's strange, but I didn't have anything to do with it. I clean the clothes, and that's it. I didn't keep the tie."

"Okay. Mr. Monroe, do me a favor. Write your name on a piece of paper," Squall said. Rinoa glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

A muscle in Tim's jaw twitched. "Why?"

"It's just a test. Write your name in print."

Tim grudgingly wrote his name on the back of an old receipt.

"Thanks. Don't worry, I'll more than likely be back," Squall said, turning on his heel and leaving the building.

* * *

"He's got something to do with it," Squall said darkly, as they were on the way back to the station. "He didn't write the note or kill Iverson, but he's definitely got something to do with it."

"What makes you say that?" Rinoa asked.

"I can feel it. I just know."

"That's not very professional," Rinoa said disapprovingly.

"Hey, when you're in this job, you trust your instincts." He pulled the key out of the ignition and opened his door. "Monroe's on the top of my short list."

"So what happens now?" Rinoa asked, as they walked into the station.

"I'm going to keep an eye on him. Stake him out, maybe. We'll play it by ear."

At that moment, Fuujin caught sight of them and walked towards them, her back poker-straight.

"Hey, Fuujin," Rinoa said cordially. "What'd you find?"

"NOTHING," Fuujin interjected, giving the note back to Squall. "STALKER?"

"That's what it looks like. Thanks," Squall said, tucking the note in his pocket. Fuujin walked away as quickly as she had come.

"Now what do we do?" Rinoa asked despairingly.

"Nothing, at the moment."

"_Hey!_ I know!" she said excitedly. "Why don't we get Selphie on it? I bet her dogs could track it like nobody's business!"

"Unnecessary, and the scent's probably long gone," Squall answered.

Rinoa pouted. "It was a good idea."

"Whatever. It's eleven, wanna call it a night?"

Rinoa's face lit up. "Cool! We finished before midnight! Miracles _do_ exist!"

"Doesn't take much to make you happy," he mused. He turned to go.

Rinoa's face softened. "Hey, Squall?"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful, OK?"

Squall turned back around. "…Yeah, alright."

* * *

Squall had already expected the note that awaited him when he got home. "What do you want, you sick bastard?" he muttered as he picked it up.

_HAVE A GOOD DAY AT WORK?_

Squall crumpled it up and pitched it across the room. He drew his gun out of his waist holster and had it cocked and ready. He hated the fact that his hand was shaking slightly. _I am NOT afraid, dammit. I can't be._

After he safely made it into his bedroom, he placed the gun on his nightstand. His insides twisted like snakes. He fell into bed, knowing that there was no hope of warding off the dreams.

* * *

_"Drop the fucking gun!" a 22-year old Squall screamed. "Drop it or I shoot!"_

_The man kept coming, he wouldn't stop. His eyes were sick and bestial. Squall heard the clicking of the barrel and pulled the trigger._

_"You bastard," the man said, the breath rushing out of him as he died. "You bastard, I swear you'll pay for this."_

_"You deserved it," Squall said, unable to stop himself from sobbing. "You killed them, you fucking deserved it…"_

Squall woke up shivering, even though it had to be at least 80 degrees in the room. It was 7:32 AM. He had managed to sleep through the night, a rare occurrence.

He shook his head to clear it and focused on what he had to do today. _Interview, put a surveillance on Monroe, make sure Heartilly doesn't screw anything up._ Oddly enough, that last one was enough to keep Squall's head in check. Baby-sitting Rinoa and trying to find this killer seemed to be the last things that kept him from going insane.

The note seemed to greet him on the way out, sitting irresistibly on a pile of newspapers.

_MORNING, SUNSHINE.

* * *

_

"You're faring pretty well for someone who's spent a week in the hands of Lieutenant Leonhart," Seifer mused to Rinoa the next morning in the station.

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" Rinoa asked coolly.

"You know, if you're sick of him, you could always transfer. You'd probably do better with me, anyway."

"Are you trying to say that I'm not doing a good job?" she said, incensed.

"No, I'm saying that you could be doing better if you weren't partnered with an asshole," Seifer pointed out.

Rinoa was vaguely reminded of Zell's "Lieutenant Asshole" comment. "I'm doing fine, thanks."

"I didn't say you weren't doing a good job. You could just be having a better time of it."

"That's not the point, is it? I just want to be partnered with the best. And from the looks of it," she said, smiling fiendishly. "I am."

Seifer scowled. "Alright. See if I offer you help again, Heartilly."

"Seifer, as much as I hate to interrupt your harassment of my aide, I'm afraid I have to," Squall said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Seifer shot both of them an ugly look and stalked off. Rinoa glanced up at Squall. "I could've handled him," she said decisively.

"You probably could have. I just love pissing him off," Squall shrugged.

Rinoa smiled. "You look better today. Find any more notes?"

"No."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're lying. You did find some."

"No, I didn't."

"How many?" she insisted.

"I didn't find any," he said stubbornly.

"Yes, you did," she said, stamping her foot petulantly. "I know you did. Stop lying!"

"You don't need to worry about this," he exclaimed. "I can take care of it. It's alright. Can we just get started?"

She crossed her arms and looked mutinous. "Why can't you accept the fact that somebody might be worried about you, huh?"

"Good question."

* * *

Thanks for the reviews, they're really helping. See you guys next update.


	6. Swim Back Now

**Disclaimer: **True or False: I own Final Fantasy VIII Answer: False

**Chapter Warnings:** Eh, the usual.

**Chapter Summary: **Squall and Rinoa journey to undesirable places as a particular lead hits home for Squall.

**The Force**

**Chapter Six

* * *

**

Tim Monroe stared into the stony face of his boss. "He suspects me."

"Hmm?"

"Leonhart thinks I did it. I could see it in his fuckin' face," Monroe snarled. "What are we going to do?"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry _too_ much." The boss's silky voice remained impassive. "As long as we've got the Lieutenant barking up the wrong tree, we'll just make sure that he stays there."

"But this guy's supposed to be _smart_. He doesn't have his head up his ass like all the other cops. And I don't wanna be taken in, Boss," Tim argued.

"You think I would let that happen?" the boss demanded. "You just stick with me and we'll have Leonhart in a bloody heap on the floor."

"I don't take chances," Tim warned. "You sure you've got this wired?" Even though the boss _was_ far more intelligent than he was, he wasn't willing to risk a cage.

"Oh, ye of little faith…"

* * *

"Are you kidding? We really don't have any more interviews today?" Rinoa gaped at her partner as she digested the news of possible free time. _No interviews, no headaches, no grappling with woefully indecisive people?_

"Don't get too excited," was the terse reply. Squall sat at the station's ancient computer.

_Of course_, she thought bitterly. "What?"

"I'm gonna look up Tim Monroe on the files. I'll bet my badge that he's got a criminal record."

"You're still on the dry-cleaner thing? Fine. I'm gonna go order us a pizza before I keel over," Rinoa announced.

"Whatever," Squall said, eyes on the screen as he typed away.

"Hey, Squall, what do you want on your pizza?" Rinoa asked, perusing the phone book.

"I'm not hungry," he said robotically, as the computer inched along. _Damn, I really need to have a talk with Quistis about this piece of junk._

"What_ever_," she said, in a ridiculous imitation of Squall. "I'm gonna go ask Selphie."

Twenty minutes later, the pizza arrived and the rest of the station flocked to it. Squall was still sorting through the assorted junk of the electronic files. _Age, birthplace, profession, blah blah blah…_

"Jeez, Rinoa, you're a lifesaver," Zell said through a mouthful of pizza.

"What, you can't even get your own pizza?" Irvine joked. Zell chose to ignore this comment and stuffed the rest of the slice into his mouth.

Rinoa turned towards Squall. "Hey, you want some?"

"No."

"Oh, please. You haven't eaten anything all day. That's not normal, you know."

"I'll eat later. I'm trying to do some work here."

Rinoa tipped her head to the side. "You know, come to think of it, I've _never_ seen you eat. What's up with that?"

"I forget sometimes," he said simply. "I don't really think about it."

She rolled her eyes. "Only you would _forget_ to eat," she remarked.

"I eat at home. What do you care?"

She clasped her hands to her heart melodramatically. "I care, oh so very much. Now just eat something before I have to get violent."

He rolled his eyes. "When did you become my mom?"

"_Squall_!"

"Jesus," he exclaimed. "Fine. _You_ look Monroe up."

The pair switched places; Rinoa at the computer and Squall surveying the pizza with distaste. _Is it supposed to be this greasy?_

"Bingo," Rinoa said, after a few minutes.

"You found it?" Squall asked. "Former criminal activity?"

"Mmhmm," Rinoa said, scrolling down. "Well, there's not much here, except…"

"Except what?"

"Gang affiliation," Rinoa finished. "But that doesn't really tell us anything, now does it?"

"Hmm," Squall said thoughtfully, licking pizza sauce off his fingertip. "Which gang was it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Hell if I know. Which gang was it?" Squall repeated.

Rinoa squinted at the screen. "Ring of Truth. Or ROT for short."

Squall could almost feel the pizza coming up again. "Huh. Interesting," he said, his voice strained as he tried to keep it flat.

_Who are you?_

_Ring of Truth, kid, and don't you fucking forget it…_

He came and looked at the screen over her shoulder. She blinked. He smelled like coffee and something unidentifiable but pleasant. It was distracting.

"Aha," Squall said at last. "It doesn't say that he left. Our boy's still in the ROT."

Rinoa turned around. "Well, so what?"

Squall ignored the question and stood up. "Come on. We're going downtown."

"What? Why? _Where_ downtown?"

"The outskirts," Squall replied. "Get your gun. You're gonna need it."

* * *

The outskirts of Balamb were…unmentionable, at best. It was the festering cavity in an otherwise attractive mouth. The remnants of humanity lined the streets or rotted in the derelict hovels. You couldn't leave your house for five minutes without getting some form of weapon stuck between your ribs.

"_Here_? You're not serious," Rinoa implored, casting an aghast glance out of the window of the squad car. This place made her want to spit. Or at least take a very hot shower…

Squall opened the car door. "Let's go. Stay close to me, OK?" He slipped a combat knife into a leg holster.

"What's that for?" she said nervously.

He gave her an impatient look. "If the guns fail," he said, as if it was obvious.

Squall paused, took the automatic out of his shoulder holster, and handed it to Rinoa. "Here. You should have two."

Rinoa accepted it shakily. The sight of her partner armed to the teeth was unnerving, and she already wanted to run to the hills.

"Ready?"

"No," Rinoa admitted.

"Too bad. Come on. We need to find MacGill."

"Who?"

But her partner was already walking down the dark street. She had to run to catch up with him. Her eyes flitted nervously from house to house as her heart raced.

Squall's cool gaze was on her. "I take it you've never been here before?" he said calmly.

"What do you think?" she whispered shrilly.

"Don't worry," he assured. "Yeah, it's a pain in the ass, but it's not horrible."

"Speak for yourself," she said hotly as a rat the size of a small cat skittered across the street.

"Just stay close, Princess, and you'll be fine."

He didn't have to tell her twice, even though she was still scowling about the "Princess" remark. "Where exactly _is_ this MacGill guy anyway, and what do you want with him?"

"You'll see. He should be _somewhere_ around here…"

A woman in a siren-red tank top and sequined miniskirt sashayed up to Squall and attached herself to his arm. "Hey, hot stuff. You up for a good time?" She winked a heavily made-up eye.

Squall gritted his teeth. It was times like these when he really wished he was wearing his uniform. Detectives, unlike officers, were not required to wear them.

"Hey, clear off," Rinoa ordered, before Squall could retaliate. The woman got a look at Rinoa's uniform and reluctantly abandoned her quarry.

As soon as the woman was safely out of earshot, Rinoa burst into laughter. "Oh God! That was priceless! Squall Leonhart, brilliant detective and prime hooker bait!" Her face was flushed with giggling.

"Shut up," Squall muttered, continuing the walk down the street.

Rinoa saluted. "Yes, sir, Lieutenant Hot Stuff!" Needless to say, the tension was popped like a bubble.

They passed many examples of abject poverty, overt prostitution, and other suspicious activities, but there was no sign of whoever Squall was searching for.

"Where the hell _is_ he?" Squall said inaudibly. "Looks like we'll have to do a little digging," he said to Rinoa.

A homeless man, filthy and bedraggled, was slumped against the wall of a grimy Chinese restaurant. He seemed to be sleeping, clenching an empty whiskey bottle. Squall drew out his nightstick and gave the man a quick poke in the shoulder.

"Ow! The hell's going on? Can't a guy get any frickin' sleep?" the homeless man slurred indignantly. He waved the bottle threateningly at Squall. "Goddamn cop."

"Oh, please, it's _Lieutenant_ Goddamn Cop. Anyway, tell me where MacGill is."

The homeless man glared at Squall. "I don't know any MacGill." He leered at Rinoa, revealing several missing teeth.

"Watch it. Everybody around here knows MacGill, who are you trying to kid? Now tell me where he is or this goes down your throat," Squall said sharply, tapping on the nightstick with his index finger.

"Fuck you," the homeless man spat.

"I don't swing that way," Squall retorted. "Where is he?"

"What you gonna give me?" the homeless man demanded.

Rinoa rolled her eyes. "Squall, let's go ask someone else."

Squall sighed and gave the homeless man a sharp knock on the side of the head with the stick.

"Ow, fuck! He's at the Cantare Club, down on West Avenue. Fucking cop!" The homeless man threw the whiskey bottle at Squall, who sidestepped it. The thick brown bottle shattered on the street.

"Let's leave this charming man alone, Heartilly," Squall said in a disgusted voice. He turned around, and Rinoa trotted after him.

"Isn't that brutality, hitting him like that?" she murmured to him.

To her surprise, Squall smiled at her and shrugged. "You do what you have to do. Just don't tell Quistis."

She shook her head. "Is _everybody_ here like that?" she said distastefully, inclining her head towards the homeless man behind them.

"Actually, that guy was quite charitable compared to everyone else here," Squall replied, smirking.

She gaped at him. "You're kidding."

"You'd be surprised. Come on, we're going to the Cantare Club."

The Cantare Club was not different from the rest of the buildings in downtown Balamb. Covered with a thick layer of grime, it was a brick building that advertised its name with a dingy sign that was emblazoned with "CANT RE CLU" in dull neon letters. Pulsing music was audible from the outside. Several people were stooped in the nearby alleyway, vomiting their brains out.

"Why am I not surprised?" muttered Rinoa.

Squall grimaced slightly. "Wait 'til you get inside," he said, opening the door.

The inside of the building was dark, and choked with a crowd of people. Club lights flashed and twirled as they illuminated the hordes of gyrating individuals.

Rinoa almost gagged at the olfactory cocktail of cigarette smoke, sweat, and beer that invaded her nostrils. "So, how do you think you're going to find him in here?" she said acidly.

"He's not hard to spot, believe me," Squall answered, scanning the crowd.

"Well, what does he _look_ like?" she asked. She was getting a lot of dirty looks because of her uniform.

Squall squinted. "There. I see him. Let's go." He grabbed Rinoa's wrist and started making his way through the throng of people.

Ian MacGill turned out to be a stringy man with a mess of purple hair and arms covered in tattoos. He was offering Ecstasy tablets to anyone who would take them.

Squall tapped him on the shoulder. "You know, MacGill, that would get you ten to fifteen years."

MacGill whirled around, some of the tablets skittering to the floor. "Oh. It's you. What do you want, Leonhart?" he shouted over the thumping music.

"Anywhere we could go that's more quiet?"

MacGill sneered and put his hands on his hips. "Man, you know the only place that's like that here is the bathroom."

"Fair enough. You stay here, Heartilly," Squall ordered.

"_What_?" Rinoa shrieked, but the two men were already walking away.

MacGill led Squall into the men's bathroom. Squall found himself wishing that he had a gas mask.

"Well, what do you want? If it's about the tablets, they're not mine, they're some guy's from Dollet…"

"I'm not here to bust you on an Ecstasy deal, even though I should and I might if you piss me off," Squall cut in, trying not to breathe through his nose.

"Oh." MacGill visibly relaxed. He grinned lazily. "So, who's that chick you came with? I was wondering when you were gonna get laid, Leonhart. If anyone needs it, it's you…"

"Shut the hell up. I need to ask you about the ROT."

The grin was immediately erased from MacGill's face, and he shook his head. "Shit, man, you know I haven't run with that crowd in years…"

"I know. I was going to ask about one of the members," Squall said impatiently.

"Dude, it's been 18 years. Hell if I remember any of 'em…"

"Tim Monroe. Spill," Squall demanded.

MacGill scratched his chin. "Monroe…skinny guy, red hair?"

Squall nodded. "Yeah. What's he like?"

"Complete asshole," MacGill said cheerfully. "Weasel, coward, you name it. Couldn't stand the guy. Why do you ask, anyway?"

"I think he's got something to do with a case that I'm working on."

MacGill raised an eyebrow. "The one with the kids?" Squall nodded again. "Wouldn't put it past him," MacGill said, shrugging. "He was always the accomplice. He didn't have the brains to do shit. But you know, I wouldn't put him past the killing of the defenseless. That's the kind of shit that made me wanna leave. Shit like what they did to you."

A muscle in Squall's jaw twitched, but he managed to mask it again instantly. He always did.

But MacGill noticed. "Hey, man. I feel for you. It's good that you're tryin' to bring them down. You're not full of shit, like the other cops."

"That's a compliment, right?" Squall said wryly.

MacGill grinned again. "Hell," he said. "If I were them, I'd piss myself if I knew you were coming after me."

Squall allowed himself a small smile. "You know, MacGill, you're alright." _You're a junkie and a crook, but I guess you're alright._

"Yo, if you find the son of a bitch, give him a good kick in the ass, courtesy of MacGill, got it?" MacGill said happily.

"Will do," Squall said, turning to go. "Don't overdo it, alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," MacGill said to Squall's retreating back.

Rinoa was leaning against the wall when he came out, still frowning. She had gotten far too many suggestive propositions from dirty men to be in a good mood. "About time," she spat when she saw Squall. "Can we _please_ get the hell out of here?"

"Hey, at least you didn't have to go into the bathroom," he answered curtly. "Let's go. Stay close, I don't want to have to send Search and Rescue after you."

They struggled through the crowd again; Squall getting more offers from particularly bold prostitutes and Rinoa getting beers splashed on her, not all of which were accidental.

"Ugh," Rinoa said, once they were outside and in the (relatively) fresh air. She gingerly fingered her shirt. "This is gonna smell for months. What did you find?"

"Well, MacGill confirmed what I already suspected."

"I still don't understand what MacGill has to do with any of this," Rinoa complained.

"MacGill and I go way back. He's an ex-member of the ROT."

"You still haven't told me what the ROT has to do with any of this," she accused. "I _hate_ it when you keep me in the dark..."

"You're going to have a pretty rough time, then," Squall said coolly.

She shot him a dirty look. "You could at _least_ tell me what the ROT _is_."

"You already know what it is. It's a gang."

"But since when do gangs kill kids like that?" Rinoa insisted.

Squall just snorted. Her naivete was so _annoying_ sometimes. "Stranger things have happened."

"And what did you have to ask MacGill about? And what does Monroe being in a gang have to do with _any _of this? What the hell would be his _motive_ for it? And what kind of gang is the Ring of Truth? And--"

"My _God_, do I have to tranq you?" Squall said irritably, cutting through her litany of questions. "Look...I'll tell you what I know when _I_ get a better idea of it. Fair enough?"

"Fine," she muttered. "But come on, would it _kill_ you to let me in?"

"Do I really have to answer that?"

She hit him in the shoulder and let herself laugh on the dark, dirty street.

* * *

The first thing that Squall decided to do when he got home was to take a shower. His current scent of cheap perfume, bitter booze, and pervasive grime was less than desirable at the moment. His shirt was like a goddamn smell diary of everywhere he had been and everything that he had done that night.

Automatically, his eyes flitted to the front table, where the mysterious notes were usually left. But today, the slip of white paper was absent. _Strange..._

Squall shrugged and ventured into the bathroom to take his much-needed shower. But today, the note was taped on the bathroom mirror:

_YOU'RE IN TOO DEEP, LEONHART. SWIM BACK NOW BEFORE YOU DROWN_

Squall ripped the note off of the mirror viciously. "I know you can hear me," he said out loud in a dangerously quiet voice. "So hear this. You are _not_ going to push me off this case. I _will_ find you. And when I do, you'll be sitting in a cell until you're worm food, I'll make sure of it." His expression was of fierce defiance, even though most of what he was saying was for his own benefit.

"And that's a promise."

* * *

Hope you have as much fun reading (and hopefully reviewing) this as I had writing it! Later,

-peridotaurora


	7. The Abyss Also Gazes Into You

**Disclaimer**: Don't know, don't own, don't sue.

**Chapter Warning**: Nothing you guys don't already know about.

**Chapter Summary**: The pair splits up: Squall chases men from his past, Rinoa looks to Quistis for information about her enigmatic partner.

**The Force**

**Chapter Seven**

"_He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." -_ Friedrich Nietzsche**

* * *

**

"Where we headed today? Somewhere more...clean, I hope?" Rinoa asked the next morning. Her uniform was freshly cleaned; the spilt alcohol of the night before a fading memory.

"_You_ are not going anywhere. You're staying right here while I go question an old pal of mine," Squall answered. _Well, I guess "pal" isn't the right word for what this guy is..._

Rinoa stopped in her tracks. "What? Why?"

"This guy...I've known him for a while. I know how he is. He's a tad old-fashioned."

"Meaning...?"

"He doesn't take kindly to women," Squall finished. "So the process would go a lot faster if I don't bring you."

Rinoa rolled her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. "Sounds like a jerk to me."

"You're not that far off," Squall replied, shrugging into his jacket. "Stay here. I should be back by...three."

She looked at her watch. "It's one now. This is going to take you two hours? And what am I supposed to do until then?"

He was already headed out the door. "I dunno. Something. I'm not your babysitter."

"And what exactly do you want to get from this misogynistic jerk that you're questioning?" she asked him, but he feigned deafness and disappeared. "Hmph," she said, but the better part of her mind was screaming "_Free time!"_

The sad thing was that when she actually _had_ free time, she had no idea what to do with it. She found that she'd much rather be pursuing justice with a certain taciturn detective.

* * *

Squall's boots crunched on gravel as he made his way up the winding path to the gray clapboard house. Even though the house _looked_ run-down, Squall knew that the resident had a mother lode of security systems.

Sure enough, there was an intercom and a security camera looming overhead above the doormat.

"Name?" buzzed the intercom as soon as Squall reached the door.

Squall rolled his eyes. "Tank, it's me."

"_Name_?" the intercom persisted.

"Lieutenant Squall Leonhart," Squall said, holding his badge up to the security camera above him. "And I'd suggest that you let me in now."

There was a momentary pause and the door swung open, revealing a muscle-bound man with a fringe of gray hair. Squall smiled. Tad "Tank" Bennington, a cop-hating, paranoid "tough guy", hadn't changed a bit. "Am I being arrested?" he demanded.

"No."

"Good," he said. He aimed a punch at Squall's face, which Squall easily avoided by pivoting.

"Assaulting an officer," Squall said lightly, as if scolding a small child. "You know better than that, Tank. But hey, no hard feelings."

"The hell do you want, Leonhart? I'm a busy guy," Tank growled.

"Oh, sure, Tank. Now let me in before I have to pin a warrant on you."

Tank muttered something about "son of a bitch" under his breath, but he turned around and led Squall into his house. The pair sat on a ratty beige sofa. "So, what do you want? I don't have all day."

"I'm gonna ask you about one of your buddies. Monroe. Give," Squall ordered.

Tank glared at him. "Never heard of him."

"Cut the crap. You were the boss's right hand man, you saw Monroe on a daily basis. Don't tell me you don't know who he is," Squall snapped.

"I hate cops," Tank rumbled, almost inaudibly.

"Oh, Tank, I'm so flattered. Spill before I take you in." _I should've let him hit me. Just so I could take him down, _Squall seethed.

Tank glared reproachfully at Squall. "How come you're still chasing the ROT, man? It's been 19 years. Let it go. Live and let live, for crying out loud. You got the guy who did it. I know you're pissed about what happened to your family, but--"

"This isn't about my family, Tank," Squall interrupted brutally. "And I'll have you know that it's none of your goddamn business. This is about some other family, _some other_ kid. And you're going to tell me what Monroe has to do with it before I drag you in for obstruction of justice."

Tank narrowed his eyes. "You don't deserve that badge, Leonhart. You're a revenge-addicted egomaniac on a power trip. The chief over there must be out of his mind."

"I swear to God, if you don't give me what I want right now, I'm taking you to Questioning. They'll make you sing like a bird," Squall snarled. "And for your information, the Balamb Chief of Police is a woman. Get over it."

Tank cast one last filthy look at Squall before he caved. "Monroe. Tim Monroe?"

"Don't play dumb."

Tank bared his teeth. "Yeah, I remember him. Why?"

"Tell me what the ROT's up to now," Squall said. He knew he was pushing his luck now, but it was still worth a try.

Tank snorted. "How would I know?"

"You know their latest location?"

"No. Leonhart, they change places every two months. You think I know where they are? They could be in fucking Trabia for all I know or care," Tank sneered.

"That's touching, Tank. Alright, then, I'll cut to the chase. Why do you think the ROT is so interested in murdering innocent little kids? Other than the fact that they're innocent, of course." Squall could already feel the beginnings of a stress headache blooming behind his eyes.

Tank paused, then smirked wolfishly, revealing a steel tooth. "You're not as smart as they say you are, Leonhart. You think this is about the kids?"

Squall was silent as the horrible understanding dawned in his head.

"They're not after the kids, Leonhart." Tank inclined his head towards Squall. "They're after you."

* * *

"Um...Chief?" Rinoa asked, timidly standing at the door of Quistis's office. _Oh man, what is possessing me to do this?_

"Yes?" Quistis didn't look up from her computer.

"Well...wanna go to lunch? I mean, I've got an hour and a half, and there's supposed to be a good place on the corner of Emerson Boulevard..." Rinoa babbled.

Quistis glanced at her, looking curious. "Hm...I might take you up on that, Officer Heartilly. You know, no one's ever asked me to lunch before."

"Oh." Rinoa suddenly felt very sorry for the Balamb Chief of Police. "Well, I heard they've got a good chef salad..." she finished lamely.

Quistis smiled slightly, looking amused. "Give me five minutes."

They made a strange pair; the lowly aide and the imperious Chief. More than a couple of people stopped to watch them as they walked out of the station.

Soon after, they were sitting in a garden cafe, digging into the aforementioned chef salad.

Even though Rinoa was the one wearing the uniform, everything about Quistis just screamed _cop_. The poker-straight posture, the cool, suspicious eyes. She made Rinoa feel like a little girl wearing a costume. Quistis looked terrifying even when she was just nibbling on a lettuce leaf.

"So," Quistis said, business-like as usual. "Have you been finding your time on the force satisfactory?"

"Um. Yes." It had been a little more than two weeks, and Rinoa was still ridiculously shy in front of Quistis.

"And Lieutenant Leonhart? He's been...manageable?" Quistis asked, eyes twinkling as she sipped her iced tea.

_Manageable_? "Oh, yeah. It's a great opportunity, working with him. He really knows what he's doing," Rinoa said enthusiastically.

Quistis laughed. "Don't I know it? He was _my_ aide, way back when."

Rinoa goggled. "Really?" She had a hard time picturing her Lieutenant in her shoes.

"Oh, yes. But I made Chief as soon as he made Lieutenant, so we parted ways," she said serenely.

"Wow. What was it like, teaching him?"

Quistis smiled. "To be honest, I did very little of the teaching. He was exceptional. And I admit," she said quietly. "I was _quite_ jealous of him at the time. So ambitious, so talented. But I got over it. We were really very similar; climbing the justice ladder together, really. I was faster, but he was better."

"Quistis? I have a question," Rinoa began.

"And I have an answer."

"Has he always been like this?"

Quistis paused. "'This' meaning cold and stunningly desensitized?" Rinoa nodded. "Oh, yes, from his very first day at work. Nothing that I told him surprised him. He saw his first body without even blinking. Even I still get slightly nauseous when I see victims, but he didn't react at all. I asked him about it later, and he just said that he had seen worse. That's exactly what he said. 'I've seen worse.' There's definitely something wrong when an investigative aide has seen worse than a high-ranked detective has, but that's Squall for you." Quistis chuckled slightly.

"I wonder why," Rinoa murmured.

"Everyone wonders why," Quistis said, shaking her head. "But as for me, I believe that it's a secret that he'll take to the grave."

Rinoa looked down and noticed that she had been so caught up in Quistis's talk of ambition and secrets that she had hardly touched her chef salad.

* * *

Tank Bennington watched the Lieutenant leave his house. _Asshole. I shouldn't have tried to punch him, but he deserves it._

He had seen the hurt and the anger that had flashed into Squall's eyes when Tank said that he didn't deserve the badge. But Leonhart had covered it up instantly. _You're good at covering up, Lieutenant. Good at hiding things. Interesting talent, for someone whose job it is to bring things into the light._

Tank knew that he hadn't seen the last of Squall Leonhart. Cops were like cockroaches, and Leonhart was tougher than Tank would like to admit.

_Wish I had hit the bastard.

* * *

_

Squall squinted into the sun as he headed down the hill to the car. Dealing with Tank had given him an almighty headache, and going back to the station was the last thing that he wanted to do.

He almost smiled as he compared the difference between his two ex-ROT members. MacGill was a junkie with a good heart, who cheerfully renounced his gang days. And with Tank...trying to get things from him was like trying to shake fruit off of a stubborn tree.

Squall took out his badge. The light glinted off of the brass as he turned it over in his hand. "Balamb Police Department-Serve and Protect" were embossed on it. He remembered how he had felt, when it was first given to him. Like he was _worth_ something.

_You don't deserve that badge, Leonhart_.

He sat back as Tank's words swirled around in his brain. _Egomaniac. Power trip. Revenge-addicted. You don't deserve that badge._

Even though he would never, ever admit it, the words had stung._ And since when do I care about what other people think or say?_

Squall scowled and pocketed the badge. _Of course I deserve the goddamn badge. The force is my life. _

Still frowning, Squall shifted the car into gear and sped off. _Even if I don't deserve the badge, I have it and I'm going to use it.

* * *

_

Squall's headache was no better by the time he got to the station. The fact that his car had almost broken down didn't help a bit. _One day, I'm going to drive it off a cliff, I swear…_

"Hey, Lieutenant. What'd you find?" Rinoa greeted.

_Well, let's see. I almost got punched out by a paranoid ex-gang member who told me that I'm unqualified. Oh, and a major crime faction wants to kill me. _"Nothing important," he said shortly.

"Well, what happened? You look lousy," she informed him.

"Really, I don't deserve your kindness," Squall droned, while trying to imagine how he looked. _Overworked cop with massive headache running on four hours of sleep. Yeah, sounds like Rinoa hit the mark._

Rinoa's face softened slightly. "Hey, you OK?"

Despite the fact that it felt like someone hit his head with a sledgehammer many, many times, Squall nodded.

Rinoa decided that it wouldn't be wise to tell him about lunching with Quistis. "Well, where do we go from here?"

"Monroe is definitely involved. I've got testimony from two former associates, and I'm questioning him more tomorrow."

Rinoa shook her head. "But what do you think you're going to get? He'll just stick with his answers from the other day. And he might even get his lawyer in. What are you going to do?"

"I'll crack him. I know when people are lying, and he definitely is," Squall said distractedly. He was feeling slightly dizzy from the pain in his head.

Her eyes were on his face, looking for any signs. "So tell me about this guy you questioned," she suggested. "And I'll get out of your face, I promise."

Squall gave her an exasperated look but gave in. "Name's Tank. He used to be pretty high up in the ROT; he was basically the boss's bodyguard. But he retired, he's about sixty now. Of course, the ROT wasn't too happy about that, so he's basically a hermit because he thinks that they're gonna come and kill him. Which they might do, actually, but it's been a while so I think he's safe."

"What did he know about Monroe?" Rinoa asked.

"Didn't get much. I basically had to harass him to even get him to _acknowledge_ Monroe. I told you, the guy's paranoid as hell," Squall said thickly. His mouth twisted slightly as another stab of pain assaulted him.

Rinoa noticed. "Take the day off," she said sternly.

"I'm fine."

She sighed. "You look like you're gonna throw up. Go _home_, Squall. I don't want you blacking out."

"Who said anything about blacking out?" Squall said, but as soon as he said it, his vision blurred slightly. _What kind of headache IS this?_

She planted her hands on her hips and frowned. "Let me guess. You stayed up all night last night at the computer."

_Not ALL last night. Just until three._ "Look. I'm primary on this case. I'm just doing my job. At the rate we're going, we're gonna be up to our ears in the people that this guy kills. He's gonna hit again. And soon. I can't lose any time."

"If Quistis sees you, she'll flip out. You look like a zombie," Rinoa accused.

"Wow, Heartilly, I'm _touched_."

"Stop joking around. Can't you just tell me the stuff you need to do? I'll do it," she offered.

"Nice try," he said, walking up to the computer and trying to gather the patience he needed to deal with it. He entered his password.

_Incorrect user information,_ the computer replied smugly.

"Like hell it is." Squall entered his password again, only to get the same reply. He rolled his eyes and stood up. "Heartilly, you do it. I think it likes you better."

But when he turned around, Rinoa wasn't there. Squall cursed under his breath. She was probably ratting him out to Quistis. He clenched his fists and stalked through the station, looking for her.

"Lose your aide, Lieutenant?" Irvine drawled pleasantly. He only got a death glare in response. "Aren't you in a lovely mood," Irvine muttered.

Rinoa sauntered back from the front desk, a sly grin on her face that immediately made Squall suspicious. "What did you do?" he demanded.

Her grin widened slightly. "I just clocked you out, Lieutenant."

"You did not." There was a slight undertone of horror in his voice.

"Oh, I did," Rinoa said happily. "The desk clerk up there was _really _surprised that you were checking out before midnight for once. Go home. Get some sleep. _Eat_ something, for the love of God. You can thank me later--"

But he grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her forward viciously. "Ow, hey!" she cried indignantly.

"You listen, Heartilly. Next time you override my authority, I'll have you on the street without a job in five seconds. Get me?"

There was a cold expression on Rinoa's face as she pulled herself out of his grip. "Duly noted," she said acidly. "_Lieutenant._ Your shift starts again in 6 hours." She still had to repress a smile. After all, she had come out on top here.

He gave her one last look that would have melted rock, snatched his jacket, and left. She chuckled. He reminded her of a petulant child that refused to go to bed when he was told.

"Nighty night, Lieutenant," Seifer called out snidely.

"Eat shit." The door slammed shut.

Rinoa smiled. The station seemed to breathe easier when Squall was gone, or maybe she was just imagining it. Her smile faded as she remembered the other reason that she had sent the Lieutenant out. His alarming physical condition hadn't been her only excuse.

"Hey, Irvine," she said. "Who do I go to for computer help?"

Irvine casually inclined his head towards a door on the other side of the room. "The Electronic Division. Ask for Raijin."

"Got it. Thanks."

He tipped his hat lazily as she walked off.

There was only one person in the ED, a muscle-bound man with cropped black hair. He was apparently off-duty, lounging idly at a computer desk. "Are you Raijin?" she asked.

"That's me."

"I need your help," she said. "How would I go about getting the files on a member of this staff?"

Raijin snorted. "Gimme a challenge, ya know?" He sat up straighter and started typing away. Rinoa noticed that _his_ computer was at least functional, unlike Squall's. Raijin's hands were like lightning on the keyboard. "Here's the BPD database, ya know? This is where they keep tabs on all the staff, ya know? All the stuff you need to know, ya know?"

_If he says "ya know" ONE MORE TIME…_

A list of links was displayed on the screen, each link a member of the BPD staff. "There ya go, ya know," Raijin said, surrendering his chair and wandering off.

"Thanks," Rinoa called after him. She put her hand on the mouse. The cursor hovered over Squall Leonhart's name.

She sat at the computer, wondering how far she was willing to let her curiosity take her.

* * *

_Detective Leonhart,_

_It seems that you've traced the recent murders to the Ring of Truth. Congratulations. You are not wholly incompetent, as we were beginning to worry. But this, Lieutenant, is all that you will find. Keeping you in the dark is endlessly entertaining._

_But that is not all we will settle for. After we're done dangling the string in your face, we will come. You will die like them. The children. Your sister. Weak, useless, and in pain. It's been too long, Detective._

_Ring of Truth._

_Never forget._

Squall flushed the note down the toilet. "You won't," he whispered. "You won't get a hold on me."

_But they already have. Never forget._

Squall loathed the loss of control. He hated it when he let himself lose it. A tidal wave of nausea hit him. _You will die like them. Never forget._

The ghosts. They were always there. They sat on his pillow as he tried to sleep, running their icy fingers down his face. And with their voices, they'd accuse him:

_You didn't save me. You let me die._

_You killed me._

_Don't you care?_

_Why didn't you do something?_

_Why? _

_WHY?_

They'd watch him as he shook violently and sweated cold sweat. They'd say, _You can't suffer like we've suffered._

Squall dropped into bed like a dead weight as the ghosts crowded in his head, waiting for them to indulge their impulse to make him suffer as much as possible.

* * *

You guys know the drill. Hope you liked it.

-peridotaurora


	8. A Crow Left of The Murder

**Disclaimer**: If I owned Final Fantasy, I definitely wouldn't be sitting here and writing this.

**Chapter Warnings:** Swearing and some crime scene gore.

**Chapter Summary**: Squall senses that time is running out while Rinoa crosses the line to get information.

**Author's Note:** EmeraldLatias, as per your request, I've addressed Squall's age in this chapter. Thanks again for pointing out Laguna's real birthday.

* * *

_Do you get it yet? Do you get it?_

_From here on, it's instinctual_

_Even straight roads meander_

_Every piece contains a map of it all!_

-"A Crow Left of the Murder" by Incubus

* * *

**The Force**

**Chapter Eight**

"Mummy, I heard them again. The monsters."

Dolores Haywood glanced at her daughter. "Lissy, honey, didn't Daddy tell you that there's no such thing as monsters?" she asked. She was due at a play soon; she didn't have time for another one of Lissy's monster scares.

"I _heard_ them, Mummy," Elizabeth said, her round blue eyes filling with tears. She was the picture of five-year old indignance. "You don't believe me."

"Of _course_ I believe you, honey," Dolores crooned, picking Elizabeth up. "Come on, I'll put you back to bed. They won't bother you anymore." She carried her daughter to her bedroom and placed her down gently, smoothing down her blonde curls. "Jules will be home soon. Night, honey. Sleep now, okay?"

"Okay," Elizabeth pouted, her tiny voice mutinous.

Dolores switched off the light and closed the door behind her. Elizabeth scowled. Her mother never believed her. The monsters were there, she knew it. Under her bed, in her closet, ready to eat her up. Mommy would be sorry if that happened. Mommy would be _so_ sorry, because she didn't believe Lissy.

Despite her terror, Lissy squeezed her eyes shut until she fell asleep, her thumb in her mouth. She looked like Alice in Wonderland wrapped in a cocoon of pink blankets, curly blonde hair framing her flushed face.

Julian Haywood opened the door a crack. Mom had told him to check on Lissy, to make sure she was still asleep. He gave her a glance. Yup, his baby sister was dead to the world. He closed the door quietly and headed downstairs to watch some TV. Maybe even dip into his dad's liquor cabinet, if he was daring enough.

The monster stepped out of the closet, looming over the sleeping child. Pretty kid, he mused.

_Still gonna be that pretty in death, little girl? Let's find out._

The monster took the gun out of his coat pocket.

* * *

_Curiosity killed the cat,_ Rinoa's conscious screamed as she sat staring at the computer screen.

_But I'm not a cat, _she reasoned. What would be the harm? One look, and she'd be done. No harm, no foul.

_You don't have a right to know._

_I'm going to be a detective. I'm doing my job: finding out about people. This is just like practice._

Sufficiently self-assured, Rinoa clicked on the link. A picture of Squall popped up onscreen along with a list.

The picture, Rinoa noted, had been taken on the day that Squall had been hired. He looked significantly younger, his striking eyes staring down the camera lens. His unsmiling face still had the same lack of innocence, but it was softer and without the exhaustion that it had today.

_Name: Squall Christopher Leonhart_

_Date of Birth: August 23, 1979_

_Location of Birth: Winhill_

_City of Residence: Balamb_

_Date of Employment: October 15, 1998_

_Age at date of employment: 19_

_Rank: Detective Lieutenant_

_Education: Public, entered Balamb Police Academy on August 23, 1997_

So young, Rinoa thought. He had entered Academy as soon as he was legally able to, on his eighteenth birthday. Rinoa did some quick mental math. Squall was 27 years old. He had spent all of his adult life on the force. She clicked on the domestic tab of the file.

_Marital Status: Unmarried_

_Family:_

_Father: Laguna Loire. Date of Birth: January 3, 1948. Date of Death: February 22, 1987_

_Mother: Raine Loire, maiden name Leonhart. Date of Birth: July 16, 1949. Date of Death: February 22, 1987_

_Sister: Ellone Loire. Date of Birth: April 8, 1976. Date of Death: February 22, 1987_

Rinoa looked closer, her blood running cold. _All of the members of his family have the same date of death, but with no cause listed. Laguna Loire...I KNOW I've seen that name somewhere..._

Her stomach lurched. She recognized it now. It was a name that could easily make the history books for its infamy. Laguna Loire, the operator of the biggest drug running scheme in Balamb history.

And he was Squall's father.

Rinoa hurriedly exited the file and jerked her hand away from the mouse as if it had bitten her. _I knew it. I KNEW IT,_ her conscious said smugly. _You crossed the line, stepped over the boundary into a land of secrets. You weren't supposed to know this. NOBODY was supposed to know this._

_I didn't mean to._

But Rinoa knew that she was kidding herself. She had done this with a purpose: to find out Squall Leonhart's secret. And she had done exactly that. Hot guilt coursed through her, setting her insides ablaze. _This wasn't at all what I expected._

But what had happened on February 22, 1987?

She jumped a mile when her cell phone rang, and swore inwardly when she realized that it was Squall who was calling. _How can I talk to him, after what I just did?_ "Yeah?"

"8675 Gardenia Avenue. Ten minutes." His voice sounded thin and tight. Rinoa knew that something had happened.

"Squall, it's 8:15. You're off duty until ten," she reminded him.

"Not anymore. Ten minutes."

Rinoa sighed. "Yeah, I'll be there."

* * *

The pair met up in front of 8675 Gardenia Avenue, an attractive white house with an immense lawn. "We're going in," Squall said briskly. He was in his element again, after three hours of sleep. "Another homicide."

"Okay. Hey, Squall," Rinoa said. "About today, I'm sorry I--"

"Forget it."

"No, but--"

"I said forget it. We've got bigger things to worry about now." He jammed his hands into his coat pockets and headed into the house. An officer was just beginning to put crime scene tape around a small room on the second floor.

"Nice of you to show, Lieutenant." Seifer was grinning like the Cheshire Cat, despite his rather macabre surroundings.

"Why the hell wasn't I notified earlier?" Squall spat when he smelled the sickly odor of death in the room. He was standing outside the door to the room, and he could still smell it.

Seifer shrugged. "Your aide sent you to bed. Go back to sleep, Leonhart, I've got this wrapped."

Squall glared at him. "Almasy, I don't care how much you want this case. It's mine. When you get to the scene, you call the goddamn primary. Which happens to be me. Live with it."

He strode into the room, leaving Seifer with a very ugly look on his face.

_Lieutenant Leonhart is back and on the ball_, thought Rinoa wryly as she followed him. But she froze as soon as she caught sight of what lay on the bed.

A little girl was sprawled out on the bed. Her face was soaked in blood that streaked her blonde hair in a gruesome manner. Her wide, blue eyes stared at the ceiling. But the smell was the worst. A combination between copper and rotting fruit, it mercilessly assaulted Rinoa's senses. Rinoa's breath caught. This was the closest she had ever been to a victim.

"Jesus," she cursed. All traces of stoutness and police bravado flew out the window. She accidentally grabbed onto Squall's arm to keep herself upright. Squall ignored her and crouched down to examine the little girl's broken body.

"Is she ID'd yet?" he asked Zell. Zell seemed to have overcome his sensitivity to crime scenes. Either that, or he had become very good at hiding his disgust.

"Elizabeth Haywood, aged five. Time of death was about an hour ago." Zell answered, nodding.

"Fabulous," Squall said absently. "Alright. Apparent cause of death; bullet wound in the skull. Additional bullet wound in the spine. Any B&E, Zell?"

"Picked lock, back door," Zell said. "The parents weren't there. They went to a play at 7:00. The older brother, Julian Haywood, came in at about 7:30."

Squall raised an eyebrow. "They left their kid home alone?"

Zell shrugged. "Looks like it. There's a screw-up for the record books, huh?"

"Some people don't deserve to be parents," Squall muttered under his breath. "Heartilly, let's--goddamn it, now where is she?" Rinoa had disappeared from right under his nose again.

Seifer sauntered into the room. "Why, I believe your aide is puking, Lieutenant."

Something made Squall lash out. Maybe it was the thought of how embarrassed Rinoa would be when she returned, but he wasn't sure. "Oh, Seifer, we all know you puked like a bulimic when you first started out. But maybe I shouldn't have brought that up," Squall said lightly. Zell looked delighted. The smug expression was wiped off of Seifer's face.

Squall paused. "Where's the note? There should be a note somewhere around here."

"Here," Zell said, handing Squall the note in a plastic evidence bag. "It's been screened, dusted, you name it. Nothing."

"Of course," Squall said simply, opening the note.

_Well, this should send you scrambling. Time's ticking, Lieutenant._

Squall went back to the body lying on the bed. "Take her to Eveann. Have her run the bullet. Wait a minute." Squall looked closer until the tip of his nose was almost touching the little girl. Several dark hairs rested on the girl's cheek. "What's the hair color of the parents?"

"Um. Blonde," Zell replied.

_Gotcha, you son of a bitch. _"Ha. Got a field kit, Zell?" he asked, pinching the hair between a thumb and forefinger. "Give me a bag." After he placed the hair in the evidence bag, he said, "Give her to Eveann and see what she can do."

Rinoa skulked back into the room, trying to make it seem like she had never left. Squall only nodded in acknowledgement. He walked back to the doorway and turned around.

"He does this all the time," Zell whispered to Rinoa. "He's trying to get into the mind of the killer, to retrace his steps. It's wild."

"He picks the lock," Squall began. "The parents aren't home, so he can do whatever he wants. He's happy, confident. He comes up the stairs and into the room. He's about to do it, but he hears the brother come in through the front door." Squall paused, thinking. "He knows that the brother is gonna come in and check on the kid, so he hides."

"Where?" Rinoa asked.

Squall pursed his lips, scanning the room. He silently crossed the room and opened the closet door. "Oh, yeah," he breathed. "He'd like this. It's theatrical enough. The monster in the closet. It's classic." Squall stepped into the closet and closed himself in. Rinoa grinned. Lieutenant Leonhart, badass police detective, shutting himself in a little girl's closet.

"He hangs out in here for a while," Squall said, raising his voice slightly to be heard through the thick wood of the closet door. "Once the brother leaves, he steps out. Looks at the kid. Maybe even gets off on it. He's excited. He's got the whole world on a plate, the life of this kid on his hands. And then," he trailed off. He stepped out of the closet, drew his own gun, and pointed it at the bed. "Bang. We don't know what kind of gun it was, not yet. But he definitely used a silencer because the brother didn't hear anything. We'll see what Eveann gets from the bullet and the hair, and we'll work it. I'm gonna go question the brother." He slid his gun back into the holster and walked downstairs.

"Wow," Rinoa said quietly.

"Yeah," Zell agreed. "And he's right, like, 9 and a half out of 10 times. He's the real deal. And I get stuck with Lieutenant Asshole. Some luck I've got, huh?"

Rinoa laughed. "Guess I should go with Squall. He's probably scaring the crap out of that poor kid."

She wasn't that far off. Julian Haywood, a 17-year old muscular jock who stood four inches taller than Squall, looked about ready to piss himself.

"I swear, that's all I know. I looked in and there was no one there. I went downstairs and watched TV. I didn't hear anything, I swear to God. That's all," Julian babbled.

"Stop harassing our son," Robert Haywood commanded, his voice heavy with anguish. "He's done nothing wrong."

Squall turned to him. "Alright. I'll harass you instead. Did you often leave your daughter home alone?"

Dolores swept her hair back and glanced at her husband. "We were running late for the play. Julian was due in about five minutes. I didn't think that…" she trailed off and burst into fresh tears.

It took Squall an immense amount of self-control to refrain from telling Robert and Dolores exactly how idiotic the both of them were. "We're very sorry for your loss," he recited robotically. Dolores, if anything, cried harder. _Damn, I could never do this._

Before Squall could lecture her about staying objective, Rinoa swooped in and put a hand on Dolores's back. "Mrs. Haywood, we'll find him. We'll find him and we'll punish him. But you have to give us what you need, OK?" Rinoa's voice was soft and soothing, as far from a cop's voice as possible.

"He took my baby," Dolores whimpered, her eyes meeting Rinoa's.

"I know," Rinoa whispered. She felt a pricking in her own eyes. "I know."

* * *

"Sorry about that," Rinoa said later in the car. "I know I wasn't supposed to do that. I just wanted to make it easier for her to talk." Her voice was thick with emotion now. She leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes.

Squall shrugged, not looking at her. "It worked. I can't comfort people for shit. Never could."

To Squall's slight horror, a tear slid through Rinoa's closed eyelids. "Um. Don't cry." Seeing his bouncy, upbeat aide fall apart was disconcerting. _There goes the neighborhood…_

Her mouth twisted and more tears escaped, despite her efforts to hold them back.

"Damn it, Heartilly, I told you that I can't console anyone," Squall said bitterly. He didn't want to deal with his own inadequacy now.

"I'm sorry, okay?" she exclaimed suddenly. "I just couldn't maintain in there."

"Everybody pukes when they're first starting out, Heartilly."

"Did you?" she asked.

"No."

She let out a short bark of a laugh. "I knew it. I'm starting to think you're not human, Squall."

"Jeez, I don't deserve an aide that's so damn nice to me!"

"Well, you have one," Rinoa answered. She stared into space. "It's just…she was only a baby."

Squall didn't answer. She went on.

"There was a dollhouse in her room. There were _juice boxes_ in her kitchen. She was only a _baby_." She wiped the tears off her face fiercely. "And he killed her for no reason."

He still didn't say anything, just drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. If he didn't talk, she'd let it all out.

She looked down and shrugged. "I don't know, I just felt sorry for the parents."

"Really? I didn't."

"Well of course you didn't, Squall. We've already established that you're not human," Rinoa said, chuckling.

"It's not that. It's because they put a play before their kid. I really don't have any pity for that."

"I'm not saying that it wasn't stupid of them, because it was," Rinoa interjected. "I just feel sorry for them because of the guilt that they're gonna go through. Because of their stupid little mistake, they're going to have to pay for the rest of their lives. I wouldn't wish that on anyone." She shifted in her seat. "Damn. I don't think can do this."

"You can't fall apart after every little setback," Squall said sharply.

"But how am I supposed to do this on a regular basis?" she wailed.

"Look--"

"I can't. I can't just be aloof and heartless about this kind of stuff. I can't watch it without any reaction. I can't be like…like…"

"Like me?" he asked quietly.

"No! No," Rinoa said quickly. "That's not what I meant." It was exactly what she meant.

They were silent for a couple of exquisitely uncomfortable minutes.

"Look," Squall said at last. "Here's how it's going down, Heartilly. I talk, you listen. You pass the exam, you make detective. Then Quistis will stop bitching at me, and everybody's happy. So cut the whining. If you think this job is easy, I want you to go back to the station now and turn in your badge. Got it?"

Rinoa pressed her cheek against the window, feeling the cool glass against her skin. Unless she was horribly mistaken, she had just been on the receiving end of Squall's version of a pep talk. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."

* * *

Eveann was in the middle of the autopsy, making a lengthwise incision across Elizabeth Haywood's tiny body. When Squall and Rinoa entered, Dr. Kadowaki's head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes. "Who let you in here? They're not supposed to let you in," she scolded.

"I'm very good at persuading people, Eveann," Squall said. "Got anything?"

"Well, in case you didn't notice, I'm in the middle of the operation right now. You should get your aide out of here. She doesn't look too good." Eveann motioned to Rinoa, who was white as a sheet.

Rinoa shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I can deal…" The scalpel made a particularly disgusting squelching sound as it cut through muscle. "You know, on the other hand, I'm going to wait out here," she said in a high-pitched voice, turning on her heel and almost running to the lobby.

"You owe me for making me work so late, Squall," Eveann clucked. "I'd be asleep right now."

Squall glanced at the clock across the room. "You go to sleep at 9:30?"

"Old lady's gotta get some rest," Eveann said, laughing heartily.

Squall looked at the operating table impatiently. "Can't you do this any faster?"

She looked up at him and scowled. "Do you want me to do it fast or do you want me to do it right?"

"Both."

"For Pete's sake, Squall, you think I'm God?" she said disgustedly.

"No comment. When are you going to be done?"

She sighed and glanced down at Haywood. "She's small, so it'll take less time. Let's say 45 minutes, maybe an hour. That hair you wanted is already in the lab, you might get it in half an hour. I'll extract the bullet and you can have the results on that tomorrow."

"Good. See, was that so hard?"

Eveann shrugged. "I guess not. Now get out of my operating room."

"Will do. Thanks," he said, striding out of the operating room and into the lobby. Rinoa sat nervously on a small, extremely unattractive pink couch. "An hour, at least," he told her, sitting down. "Then we can get the results on the hair, swing by Monroe's again, and pin this bastard."

She smiled weakly. "Well, that's good."

He shrugged. "It's nice when things work out for once, isn't it? Now…the detective's exam. It's not easy. Not by a long shot. Personally, I don't think Quistis gave us nearly enough time, but whatever. It's doable." He closed his eyes and raked his hand through his hair several times. "Yeah, I'm sure it's doable. It's two and a half months away, and I want you to prepare until you're ready to drop."

Rinoa just nodded. Two and a half months suddenly seemed overwhelmingly close.

"Let's see. The sections are Investigations, Interrogations, Procedures, Criminal and Local Law, Warrants, Records, Reports, and Testimony," he recited, ticking them off on his fingers. Rinoa's jaw just about hit the floor. He glanced at her. "Hey, I said it wasn't easy, didn't I? OK, listen up."

Over the next half an hour, Squall told her the nature of the test, and what she would be expected to perform.

Rinoa almost could have laughed. They had talked for thirty minutes without mocking each other's intelligence or arguing. _Alert the presses, it's a breakthrough!_

"Well, that's the test," he said, leaning back into the couch. "Hell of a lot easier said than done."

"That's comforting."

"It's not supposed to be comforting. It's supposed to scare the shit out of you. But again, we'll work it." _Man, I need some coffee._

"Okay," she said. "You think I'm up for it?"

"Um…"

She pouted. "Great."

"You're gonna need to step it up, big time. But like I said, we'll get there," Squall closed his eyes again. He'd quite like to go to sleep on this hideous pink couch.

Eveann shuffled out into the lobby, lab coat still bearing splashes of blood. "All done. Thanks for waiting."

"Yeah, yeah. What'd you get?"

"Not much. The shot to the skull killed her. Instant death, thankfully. If she'd been alive when she was shot in the spine, it would've been ugly. Who knows what the shot in the spine was for..."

"It's not important. Anything else?"

"You're going to want to look at the result for this hair," she said.

"Alright, whose is it?" Squall asked. He got a buzz whenever he was close to solving something.

She shook her head. "It's yours."

He felt his stomach drop to his feet. "What?"

She handed him the results. "It was your hair, Squall. It must've gotten on her body by mistake at the scene."

"No. That's impossible. I would've known," he growled, gripping a handful of his hair. "I would've noticed."

"You can't keep track of every single one of your hairs, Squall," Eveann reminded.

"I just know, OK? There were a bunch of them on the girl, I definitely would've noticed." He shoved his hand through his hair again, as if punishing it for leaving his sight.

Eveann frowned. "Well, do you think it _magically_ got on Haywood?"

Squall grit his teeth. "It's a plant. Fuck it, it's a plant. He did this to throw me off and waste time. He must've gotten it while I was out or something." _Or asleep._ He didn't really want to think about that.

Squall didn't have to look at Rinoa's face to know that she was furious. "I thought you said that this whole stalker business had stopped," she hissed, her voice sounding unusually dangerous.

"I didn't say anything like that," Squall replied coolly. "And I'm warning you right now, if you tell Quistis anything, I'm firing you for disobeying a direct order."

"Whoa," Dr. Kadowaki said, backing up a step. "I don't think I'll get into this one."

"See that you don't," Squall snapped. His mood had gone from fair to foul in a matter of seconds. "I'll be back tomorrow for the bullet. Come on, Heartilly. We've got a long night ahead of us."

* * *

"What the fuck do you _want, _Leonhart?" Tim Monroe, in a ratty pair of pajama pants, stood at the door of his house looking livid.

"Look how happy he is to see us, Heartilly," Squall said, smirking. "Warms my heart. Alright, Monroe, let us in."

Monroe narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"I'm not really in the mood to threaten you. Let us in."

Before Monroe could reply, Rinoa piped up. "Let us in, _please_."

Monroe smiled. "That's more like it. Looks like your girlfriend has more manners than you, Leonhart." He moved aside, and Squall and Rinoa filed into his house, both of them still frowning from the "girlfriend" comment.

"Didn't you ever go to preschool?" Rinoa whispered when Monroe was out of earshot. "You say please, you get what you want." She smiled impishly.

"For some reason, I don't think that preschool and police work are related. Look sharp, he's gonna lie through his teeth again. Be on your toes."

They followed Tim to his kitchen, which smelled like a potent mix of vodka and mustard. Tim sprawled in a kitchen chair and scowled at both of them. "Well, what is it? What'd you drag me outta bed for?"

"Our own sick amusement. I need your whereabouts, Tim, from about 7:00 to…now." Squall watched Tim's face carefully.

Tim cocked an eyebrow. "Someone else died?"

"No, we're here for the hell of it. Give me your whereabouts, Tim."

Tim glared at him and thought for a while. "I was at the cleaner's. Then I came home and went to bed."

Squall suppressed the overwhelming urge to roll his eyes. "I need times, Monroe."

"Well, shit, I don't remember. I guess I left the cleaner's at about eight. Then I came home and hit the sack."

"No."

Tim looked irritated. "No _what_?"

"No to the bullshit that you call an alibi," Squall snarled. "Your store closes at seven."

"I was locking up."

"It takes you an hour to lock up? I feel very, very sorry for you."

Tim had an ugly look on his face. "I must've left earlier, then. I don't know, I wasn't keeping track of time."

"You've got one more chance to give me something that isn't crap. Don't fuck with me, Monroe," Squall warned.

Tim sneered. "Who'd want to?"

"Let's keep the moronic jokes to a minimum. Give me the whereabouts."

Tim thought some more. "Let's see…"

"You were at an ROT meeting, weren't you?" Squall's upper lip curled slightly.

Some of the color drained out of Tim's face. "Huh?"

"You were at an ROT meeting. They meet every month or so, there's usually some speeches, a little voodoo here and there."

"Hey, man, I quit. I don't do that stuff anymore," Tim said quickly.

Rinoa went into a fake coughing fit. One of the coughs sounded suspiciously like "liar." Squall tried not to smile. "What'd they talk about during this meeting, Tim? Which kid to kill next?"

"I'm not in it anymore!" Tim exclaimed. "I quit _months_ ago."

"Monroe," Squall said firmly. "If you tell me who the leader is, I'll drop this and we forget all about it. If not, I can bag you for being the accomplice and you can rot in a cell. Your choice."

Tim wrinkled his nose. "I thought you said you weren't in the mood to threaten me," he accused.

"I've had a stunning change of heart. Are you gonna take the deal or not?" Squall demanded impatiently.

Tim's eyes were wide. "I can't do that. They'll kill me."

"I protected MacGill, Tim. I can protect you."

Tim seemed to be fighting an internal battle. But finally, his loyalty won out. "No, I'm not doing it." He stuck his chin up in a ludicrous display of defiance.

"Fine with me. But when I find this guy, Monroe, I _will_ have you in a cage for assisting murder," Squall said. "And yeah, they give the death penalty for that. Think about it."

He abruptly turned around and walked out, Rinoa on his heels.

Tim waited until the door shut, then made a phone call. "Boss, it's me."

* * *

"He was lying," Rinoa said immediately when they were in the car.

"Oh, yeah. I'm gonna try to get a warrant to tap his phone. And I'd do something about that cough if I were you, Heartilly," Squall said wryly.

Rinoa blushed. "I don't know what you're talking about," she replied, then smiled. "So what were you talking about, when you said that you protected MacGill?"

"Oh, that? It was about five years ago. MacGill gave me the name of an ROT member who had…who had killed somebody." Rinoa saw his eyes darken slightly. "So then when I got the guy, I had to watch over MacGill so that the ROT wouldn't kill him. It was sort of like a bargain we had."

Rinoa had a sick feeling that the bargain had something to do with Squall's family. Then she remembered that she wasn't supposed to know that. "That was…nice of him," she managed to say.

Squall shrugged. "He's a decent guy. He put his life on the line because I asked him to. I respect that." He realized that the delinquent junkie Ian MacGill was the closest thing he had to a friend. Squall shook his head. _Yeah, I really need to sleep now._

Rinoa yawned and glanced over at Squall ruefully. "So much for closing the case tonight, huh?"

Squall exhaled as he rubbed his eyes. "Yeah. So much for that."

* * *

That's it for now. Read, review, or do a combination of the two.

Later,

peridotaurora


	9. This Tangle of Thorns

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything or anybody except for Thetis Doyle and her family members.

**Chapter Warning**: This one is pretty tame.

**Chapter Summary**: Rinoa comes across a figure from the past while Squall pursues covert means of justice.

**Edit: **Thanks a bunch to Cerulean Crystal for pointing out the date discrepancy. I'm an idiot sometimes.

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_Look at this tangle of thorns._

-Vladimir Nabokov

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**The Force**

**Chapter Nine**

****

"Lieutenant Squall Leonhart, requesting an investigative warrant."

Quistis nodded, not looking up from her work. "Probable cause?"

Squall racked his brains. He hadn't actually thought of that yet. "Extreme suspicion of past and ongoing activity," he suggested.

She gave him a look before going back to her work. "Leonhart, you of all people know that we actually need a credible _reason_ to shit all over people's civil liberties."

Squall put a hand on his hip. "I thought we already established the fact that you can trust me," he said, scowling.

"You haven't been doing much to assure me," she retorted, eyes glinting behind her spectacles. "Three murders and you haven't even left Square 1."

Squall frowned. This wasn't exactly the way he had planned on starting his day. "If you give me the warrant, I'll get results, and then everybody's happy."

Quistis sighed and adjusted her glasses. "What do you need?"

"A phone tap."

"And whose privacy are we breaching today?" A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Timothy Monroe. I need round-the-clock surveillance on this guy," Squall warned.

"Go to the ED. I'll process your warrant. Now get out of here and get something done," she commanded, her fingers dancing over her computer keyboard. "And get ready for your press conference."

Squall froze. "What?" _This had better be a joke_.

Quistis's smile twinkled with mischief, something rare for someone of her status. "You heard me. What's the matter, can't you just get Officer Heartilly to do it?"

"She's off duty 'til noon," Squall muttered. It was only ten o'clock and his day was already going to hell...

Quistis shrugged. "Pity. Reminds me of when you were my aide and I got _you_ to do my dirty work. It's so easy to abuse a position of power..."

Squall tried a different angle. "Well, uh, you know, this press conference takes a significant amount of time away from my investigation..." he began

Quistis laughed. "Nice try."

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The scar on Squall's face throbbed as he rubbed at it absently. There were still questions ringing in his ears. Press conferences always made him feel ill, but this one had been exquisitely horrible. It seemed that Quistis wasn't the only one who was losing patience with him.

The station door swung open and Rinoa came in, face fresh as a daisy. "Hey! What's up? Anything happen?"

The brightness in her voice was grating to Squall's frazzled nerves. "Nothing besides the fact that everyone thinks I'm completely incompetent," he said acidly.

Rinoa blinked and her cheerful expression faltered. "Well. Um…how do you figure that?"

"Press conference," was all that Squall said. He turned away. He felt the familiar beginnings of another headache.

Rinoa looked worried. "Why didn't you call me?"

He stared at her. "You were off duty. And you hate press conferences."

"Well, yeah, but I could've done…something…" she trailed off.

He raised an eyebrow. "You're _offering_ to do the shitwork?"

She shrugged. "I don't know…I guess."

He eyed her suspiciously. "I don't get you, Heartilly."

She smiled slightly. "Fair enough…hey, are those donuts?" Her gaze was fixed on a pink cardboard box on a nearby table.

He turned around to see the box. "I guess. Selphie brought them in."

"_Yum_. But on second thought…I'm on a diet," Rinoa said, voice falling slightly.

Squall glanced at his aide's flat stomach and thin limbs and said nothing.

Rinoa laughed. "Cops and donuts…the ultimate cliché. Why don't I settle for the next cop cliché and get the two of us some coffee? Then you can tell me what's been going down, hm?"

"Whatever."

"What_ever_," she imitated happily as she grabbed two Styrofoam cups. After almost three weeks on the force, she was settling into the swing of things. She wore her long black hair in a ponytail now to keep it out of her eyes. She was learning to live on considerably less sleep, and she was getting a really strong taste for coffee. And as strange as it was to admit it, she was growing rather fond of her Lieutenant.

Rinoa liked the fact that he was so predictably unpredictable. She felt that they set each other off perfectly, bouncing off of each other. And all the sniping was keeping her on her toes.

_It's weird, but maybe we could be friends._

She snapped plastic lids on the two cups. "So what made this press conference so crisis-worthy, anyway?"

"Tch. It doesn't matter. Let's go, I've got a warrant processing for Monroe's phone tap, and we'll actually _have_ something substantial..."

"Hey, I asked you a _question_," she exclaimed, but he was already halfway to the ED. She sighed and followed him into the ED, where Squall was arguing with a very stern Quistis.

"Quistis, I told you that this is _priority_!"

"Well, the court's not buying it," Quistis answered. "I told you, Squall, you _need_ a credible probable cause. And 'I just know' doesn't count. I don't care how many gut feelings you have. Why won't you give me any _details_ about the case?"

_Because you'll freak out_. "Look. The guy's still affiliated with an organization that has _something_ to do with this case."

Quistis crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "Which organization?" she asked.

Squall grit his teeth. "He's a long-standing member of the Ring of Truth."

"Fine. I'll see what I can do. I'm contacting the court." Quistis gave him one last stern look and exited.

_What is his problem?_ Rinoa wondered. "Hey, what's the deal? How come you didn't want to tell Quistis anything? She's just trying to get your warrant."

"Because she's not exactly happy that we've done next to nothing," Squall snapped.

Was he embarrassed, ashamed at his own failure? He had a funny way of showing it. "That's not true. We've got a suspect...sort of..."

He ran a hand over his face and scowled. "This warrant could take days to go through."

"Well, hey," Rinoa suggested. "Maybe I could do something while you wait here for the warrant to go through. What do you think?"

Squall considered. "Or maybe _you_ could wait here while I..."

"_Hey!_"

The corners of his mouth upturned slightly. "Alright. I'm technically not allowed to do this, but we'll just say...that I trust you very much."

"What, you don't?" Rinoa teased.

"I'll send you to talk to a woman. It'll be alright, she's not like the other people we've questioned. Thetis Doyle. I'll get you directions," he said, reaching for a piece of paper.

"But...Squall, who _is _she?" Rinoa asked, furrowing her brow.

"The former leader's wife," he answered, not looking up from the paper. "And the ROT's co-founder."

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Rinoa's stomach felt jittery as she stepped out of the car. This would be the first interview she ever conducted without being under the watchful eye of Squall. There would be no one to smoothly cover up her mistakes, no one to swoop in if it was going badly. She took a deep breath. Sure, Squall had already told her what to ask Thetis Doyle, but there were still so many ways that she could mess up.

A tinkly bell sounded as Rinoa rang the doorbell. _It'll all be cool. You're the cop, you're in control_, she told herself.

The door opened slowly. "Yes?"

Rinoa thought that she must have been at the wrong house. The woman in front of her was old, small, and frail-looking. Her wispy white hair was tied back in a loose bun and she wore a deep red pantsuit. Needless to say, she did _not_ look like the co-founder of a bloodthirsty crime organization.

But appearances could be deceiving. "Thetis Doyle?"

"Yes. Is something the matter?" Thetis looked worried, but Rinoa could tell that she wasn't surprised at Rinoa's arrival at all.

"You're not being accused of anything. I just need to ask you some questions. Can I come in?"

"Of course." Thetis obligingly stepped aside.

Her house looked like...well, an old lady's house, Rinoa thought. _Antiques everywhere_.

Thetis turned around. "Would you like some tea? I've got a pot going."

"Um. No thanks. Here, let's sit down."

Thetis obeyed and the two of them sat on her violet chintz couch. "I'm here on behalf of Lieutenant Squall Leonhart. He said that you two are acquainted," Rinoa explained.

Thetis's eyes misted over slightly. "Has something happened to him?"

"No," Rinoa assured. "He's fine, he's just busy. I'm his aide, and I'll be representing him."

Thetis smiled, relieved. "How delightful. He doesn't seem like the mentor type to me. But I suppose people change..."

"Right. Anyways, I won't take much of your time, Mrs. Doyle, so I'll get right down to it. Have any members of the ROT attempted to contact you over the past year?" Rinoa asked, reciting the question that Squall had told her to ask.

Thetis's eyes darkened slightly and her mouth tightened. "No. No, they haven't."

_Is she lying? No, I don't think she is. It looks like it's a touchy subject, though. I might have to touch on it later._ "How long do you think it's been?"

Thetis chewed on the inside of her cheek as she thought. "I would say that it's been about…ten years since I've had any contact with any of them." Her nose wrinkled distastefully. "They're involved with these recent killings, aren't they?"

"We believe so, yes," Rinoa answered. _Well, Squall believes so._

Thetis sniffed. "I knew it. It's very much like them, the same style…or lack thereof."

Rinoa raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were the--"

"Co-founder," Thetis finished, nodding. "And I am, and I will be forever, no matter how much I want to change it." She smiled sadly.

"But you're the leader's wife," Rinoa persisted. "You really don't have any contact with them?"

"My husband isn't the leader anymore," she said, shaking her head. "He hasn't been for ten years."

"What's his name? Could I talk to him?"

"His name is Asher, and we're separated. You should do background checks, Officer," Thetis said, flashing her slightly grayed teeth.

Rinoa blushed. She hadn't gone near a computer since she stumbled upon Squall's secret. "Um. Do you know who the new leader is by any chance?"

"No. I never learned his identity. I chose to leave before he was revealed to me."

"…Do you know their new location?"

"As they'll have likely changed it, I have no idea."

_Figures_, Rinoa thought.

Thetis smoothed out the wrinkles in her pants and tucked a strand of silvery hair behind her ear. "Well, will that be it?"

Rinoa hesitated. Officially, yes, that was it. But there was so much that Rinoa wanted to know, and the irresistible chance was sitting right in front of her.

_NO!_ _You're just doing what you were last time: digging around in stuff you shouldn't know._

Recklessness shot up her spine. _I'm not going to do this again. I'm not_.

_Why not_? _You're here, you have the chance. Don't pass this up. Are you going to pass up the chance to solve this?_

"Could you tell me more about the Ring of Truth?" she blurted out. _Why don't I have any self-control? _She made a mental note to work on that.

"I'm sorry?" Thetis said primly.

Rinoa looked down immediately. "I mean…I want to know what it is. I've never really gotten a straight answer."

Thetis sighed, her gray eyes drooping slightly. "I founded it with Asher twenty-five years ago. It was a small group, only about fifteen people at the time. But it grew, twisted, and became something that Asher and I never wanted it to become."

She shuddered slightly and went on. "When we started it, it was a lobbyist organization. Yes," she said, laughing delicately. "That was what it was. Can you believe it?"

How a group could go from lobbying to slaughtering children was completely beyond Rinoa.

Thetis's face was hardened with anger and sadness. "Asher and I saw what was happening to Balamb. We wanted to make it better." Her voice became more dramatic and theatrical. "Drugs, crime, squalor. We wanted to make our government see. We saw our city wracked with corruption and we wanted to be a beacon. A ring of truth." Rinoa had the feeling that Thetis had made that speech many times before.

Thetis broke off, folding her arthritic hands. "It was magnificent. I had helped create something that would have made a better world. I failed."

"What happened?" Rinoa wanted to know.

Thetis paused, searching for words. "The ring grew, gained different interests. Our demands multiplied, and we wanted results. Some people," she continued, exhaling. "Some people were willing to do whatever it took."

"…Meaning?"

"Terrorism," Thetis finished grimly, smiling slightly. "Fear was their weapon. They thought that fear would get them what they wanted. Kidnapping, violence, murder. And one day they went too far."

Realization rang in Rinoa's brain. "February 22, 1987," she murmured.

Thetis looked surprised. "He told you?"

"I…no," Rinoa confessed. "And to tell you the truth, I'd like to know a bit more about it."

"It wasn't a good time for the ring," Thetis said darkly. "It was the downfall, and it's not a very good topic for conversation."

"It's important for our investigation," Rinoa lied. _Oh, Squall would kill me right now. Good thing he's not here. _"I need your account of it."

A large white cat slunk into the room, and ascended the sofa into Thetis's lap. She petted it absently. "It split the whole ring apart. Everyone took sides. And Asher's power began to crumble."

_Get to the details already_, Rinoa thought impatiently. She was quite tired of Thetis's poetic ramblings.

Thetis curled her fingers into the cat's pale fur. "What happened that day was…disastrous. Embarrassing. The whole world now knew the ring as a group who would kill the innocent to achieve their goals."

Thetis paused again. "The little girl got to me. What was her name again…Ellen?"

Rinoa thought of the name on the computer screen. "Ellone."

"That was it," Thetis said, nodding. "I saw her picture in the paper, and she was just such a sweet-looking girl. And then I knew that _I _was responsible for the death of this precious little girl. It was just…" She cleared her throat and shook herself slightly. "Awful. And so Asher confronted the ones responsible. He made it clear that what they did was…intolerable."

"What happened?"

Thetis smiled, but it was evident that she wasn't happy. Her smile was twisted, tormented. "They drove him out. Threatened him. Asher feared for his life. He left and took our son with him. And to this day, I have no idea where he is."

"Why did he take your son?" Rinoa asked.

"Things weren't well between Asher and me. We were actually…talking about divorce before he left. I think he wanted to take Tristan with him rather than risk leaving him with me." A tear slid down her wrinkly cheek before she batted it away. "I haven't seen my son in fifteen years. He was only sixteen when they left…"

"But what exactly _happened_ on February 22?" Rinoa persisted.

Thetis suddenly became very agitated. "I don't want to talk about it! It's bad enough that I had to lose my family to it! Now please, if that's all, please leave."

Rinoa felt awful. She stood up to leave. "I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have made you talk about it," she mumbled, ashamed.

Thetis looked at her approvingly. "You've got tact. I like that. And I do know what it's like to be curious, I suppose."

Thetis stood up slowly and led Rinoa to the door. "In response to what you're here for, yes. I do have blood on my hands," she said softly. Tears lingered in her eyelashes. "And yes, I'll have to live with it for the rest of my life. But no, I'll have nothing to do with the Ring or any of its members as long as I live. Never."

Thetis fiercely wiped her tears away, her gray eyes flashing. "Have I been a help to you?"

"Yes," Rinoa whispered. "And I'm so sorry."

Thetis smiled. She didn't see a cop in front of her. She saw a pretty, sensitive woman who was eager in ways that reminded Thetis of herself. "When you spend most of your life being sorry, you appreciate apologies even more. Good luck, Officer."

Rinoa shivered from both the winter cold and from what she had heard inside Thetis Doyle's house. She now understood why Squall told her to stay objective. She had gotten too emotionally involved, and the whole interrogation had gone to hell in a handbasket.

_The little girl got to me._ Squall's sister, father, mother killed by the ROT. Rinoa drew a ragged breath. The thought was too awful to dwell on, and Rinoa didn't even know the full details of what happened.

Rinoa felt like giving herself a couple of good kicks in the shin. What had happened to her? _I acted totally out of form in there. I'm like an animal who can't control herself._

She mentally abused herself all the way to the station and by the time she reached the ED, she was about to fall apart.

Squall was sitting next to Raijin, a pair of headphones on his head. "We're in," he said when Rinoa entered, a hint of a genuine smile on his face. "I'm monitoring the transmissions and Raijin here is gonna trace the location when I say to. We're all set. Hey, what's with you?" he said, when he noticed the expression on Rinoa's face.

She immediately checked herself. "Nothing," she said, grinning broadly. "That's great, we're finally in. Now, uh, why don't you explain to me how this works?"

Raijin jumped into an eager explanation of the wiretap. Squall gave her one last suspicious glance before looking back at Raijin.

There was nothing like a boring, technical lecture for distracting someone from their problems.

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"_I heard you apprehended Franklin. Congratulations," Thetis said. "I know how hard you worked at it."_

_The young man in front of her didn't respond._

"_I've been meaning to contact you for some time now," Thetis continued. "I wanted to say something to you."_

"_I'm here, aren't I?" the man answered coldly._

"_Yes, you are. And I can't tell you how much it means to me. I wanted to tell you," Thetis said, her voice wavering. "That I never meant it to be like this. I truly never meant for so much destruction."_

_Her heart ached at the look of hatred on the young man's face. A man of 23, and he looked as if he had hated for centuries. But he would truly never be young again._

"_I do take my share of the blame," Thetis went on quietly. "This never would have happened had it not been for me and my husband. But I never would have condoned this."_

"_So Asher ran for it," the young man said._

"_He did," Thetis said, nodding. "As you see, you're not the only one affected by this."_

_Thetis had said the wrong thing. The man looked furious. "You'll never know--you'll never understand--"_

"_I know," Thetis cut in. "I know. I'll never be able to make up what they did to you."_

_The man didn't say anything and ran his fingers through his hair. _

"_If you've come to arrest me," she said quietly. "By all means, do it. I deserve it. But Squall?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Is it too late to apologize?"_

_Squall paused, then responded with a miniscule shake of the head._

"_I'm sorry," she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'm so, so sorry." _

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I won't be able to update for a while; I'm going on vacation, so I gave you a short chapter to tide you over. Until next time.


	10. Everybody Work Late Day

**Disclaimer**: Since I am not famous or rolling in money, I obviously do not own Final Fantasy VIII.

**Chapter Warning**: Some light swearing and drunkenness.

**Chapter Summary**: Squall and Rinoa struggle to keep vigil as they wait for the opportunity that could make this case.

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**The Force**

**Chapter Ten**

_Welcome to the graveyard shift_, Rinoa thought dully, yawning until her jaw cracked. She craned her neck to see Squall's watch. 12:55 AM and not a single useful transmission. Other than a hilariously pathetic attempt at phone sex, Tim Monroe had made no unusual phone calls.

Raijin was slumped on the desk, snoring loud enough to blow the roof off. Much to Rinoa's amusement, Squall had fallen asleep as well. His head rested on his arms and his shoulders gently rose and fell with each breath.

Ever so carefully, Rinoa pulled the headphones off of Squall's head, his hair tickling her hand as she pulled the headphones free. She slipped them over her own ears. Thankfully, he didn't stir.

She didn't seem to be the only one interested in the fact that the usually vigilant Lieutenant had fallen asleep. A gleeful Zell carefully taped a sign that said "PANSY" on Squall's back and snapped a picture with his cell phone. After having her laugh, Rinoa wisely decided to pluck the sign off before blood was shed.

For a while, she just sat back and watched him sleep. She was intrigued by the transformation that had occurred right before her eyes. He was not Detective Lieutenant Squall Leonhart when he slept. He was something else, something more simple and vulnerable. There was none of the spite and the stoniness he wore during the day. Then Rinoa felt a pang in her stomach as she imagined what Squall must see when he closed his eyes.

She sipped at coffee that tasted like scorched cardboard._ Why are we here?_ She groaned inwardly. _Anybody in their right mind would be asleep now_.

Quistis passed by the ED on her way to her office. When she saw Squall and Raijin, she stopped short and rolled her eyes. "You try to get good help around here…" she muttered, shaking her head.

"Don't wake him up," Rinoa said. "He's had a long day."

Quistis smiled. "I'm glad to see your concern for him, but they're both on the clock." She carefully rolled up the sleeves of her work jacket and gave both Squall and Raijin a sharp swat on the back of the head.

They both jumped. "Hey!" Raijin squawked.

"Back to work, gentlemen," Quistis commanded imperiously. As Quistis strode out, Rinoa could've sworn that she smiled fiendishly.

Squall rubbed the back of his head absently. "How long have I been out?" He turned his chair to face her, tugging the headphones off her head.

"Mmm…about a half hour," Rinoa answered, spinning around in her chair. The room whirled by and blurred as she spun faster and faster.

He scowled. "You should've woken me up. And cut it out before you get sick."

She stopped abruptly, her head spinning as nausea washed over her. She stood up, staggering around the room like a drunk. "Well, pardon me for wanting you to get more sleep. Ow!" she exclaimed as she careened right into the desk. "I told Quistis not to wake you."

He watched her with a cocked eyebrow, evidently amused by her antics. "Yeah, well, it's not the first time that I've gotten a Quistis beatdown," he replied.

"She doesn't hit like a girl," Raijin complained.

Rinoa was still stumbling around. "OK, I'm never doing that again."

"I _told_ you," Squall said. "Did we get any transmissions?"

She shrieked as she tripped over Squall's leg and landed hard on the floor.

"God," Squall said exasperatedly. He offered a hand to help her up.

She rolled over, laughing so hard that she had to hold her sides. Raijin giggled and Squall rolled his eyes even though he had the tiniest hint of a smile on his face.

Quistis came by the ED again to see what the noise was all about, and she found Rinoa cracking up in a heap at Squall's feet, Raijin helpless with giggles, and Squall trying to look bored but failing. She sighed, but she couldn't help but laugh herself.

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After they had calmed down, Squall asked, "I forgot to ask. How did that interview with Thetis go?"

Rinoa eased herself off the floor. "Um. Fine," she lied.

"No problems _whatsoever_?" he asked skeptically. "What did she tell you?"

She sat back down in her chair. "She hasn't had any contact from any members over the last year. But she thinks that the Ring is definitely involved," she answered. She paused and looked over at him. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

He nodded. "But confirmation never hurts. What'd you think of her, anyway?"

Rinoa thought for a bit, then shrugged. "I liked her, I guess. She's the last person that I'd suspect of anything. A bit of a drama queen, though."

He nodded again, but didn't say anything.

"Hey, I've got a question."

"That's new."

"Well, since Thetis co-founded the Ring and all, you could've arrested her ten times over," Rinoa began, ignoring his comment. "I mean…why didn't you?"

Squall paused. "I guess that's a good question," he replied, not looking at her directly.

"She would've confessed and everything," she continued. "It sorta seems like a no-brainer."

Squall drummed his fingers on the desk erratically, a nervous habit. "Dozens of people have died in Thetis's name," he said quietly. "That's true. But," he went on. "It wouldn't have really changed anything if I took her in. She's not in control of them anymore."

He trailed off, rubbing his chin as he stared into space. "Believe me, I was this close to arresting her," he confessed. "But even I know that Thetis Doyle isn't really guilty of anything." He suddenly looked even more tired.

"Well, um…that's really good of you," Rinoa managed. _Could I do that? Could I do what was right instead of what I wanted to do?_ She doubted it, given her lack of self-control. "What happens now?"

"We wait," he replied simply.

She sighed. "I was afraid of that."

He leaned back. "Go home. I've got it under control here."

She managed to grin and shake her head. "Nope. I'm not missing a thing."

"I'm going to call you anyway if I get anything," he pointed out.

"Nah. And besides," she said, nudging him amiably. "We can suffer together."

He shrugged, and he found that he didn't really mind if she stayed.

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"What are you guys still _doing_ here?" Selphie exclaimed. She was on her way out, her jacket slung over her shoulder.

"Hangin' out. We do this all the time," Rinoa joked.

"It's past one. When are you guys leaving?"

"Possibly never."

"Damn, Rin! That bites. Here, I'll stay with you for a while. You're probably bored to death already, and I don't have anything better to do," Selphie announced, sitting down. Squall looked mildly horrified.

Seconds later, Irvine waltzed in, having heard Selphie's voice. "He-ey, Selphie darlin'," he sang.

"And there he is, the bane of my existence," Selphie groaned.

"Aw, you know I'm just kidding."

"What are _you_ still doing here, anyway?" Selphie complained.

Irvine rolled his eyes. "Paperwork. Some idiot fires off a pistol at some rally, I bag him, and it's like _I'm _being punished."

"That's the way it works," a voice from the door replied. Zell was leaning against the door frame. "What's up, guys? Slumber party?"

Rinoa shot a look at Squall. She grinned and raised her eyebrow as if to say, _What IS this_? He rolled his eyes.

"Man! What is it, 'Everybody Work Late' Day?" Selphie cried. "Don't you guys have lives?"

"_You're_ here," Irvine pointed out. "And you pretty much give up all prospects of having a life once you join the force, eh?"

"I hear that," Zell agreed. "My ma's going _crazy_ 'cuz I haven't had time to see her or anything. She's like 'make time!' but you can't _make_ time if you're with Lieutenant Assho—I mean _Seifer_…"

Soon, they were all settled comfortably throughout the ED. Irvine even managed to find a mostly-full bottle of champagne.

"Where'd you get _that_?" Selphie asked, eyeing the bottle with interest.

"It's left over from Xu's farewell party," Irvine answered, grinning as he filled six paper cups.

"You guys are on duty," Squall hissed, frowning with disapproval.

"I'm not," Selphie said loftily. "I clocked out." She took a cup.

"And people are boring when they're too sober," Irvine chimed in. "Come on, Squall." Squall shook his head vehemently.

"Man, Quistis is gonna _freak_," Zell said, but he still snagged a cup.

"Rin?" Irvine asked, offering a cup. Rinoa was about to take it, but when she saw Squall glaring in her direction, she decided against it.

Irvine shrugged. "I'll drink yours then." Soon enough, Selphie, Zell, Irvine, and Raijin were all slightly tipsy. Eventually, the conversation turned to complaining about their job.

"So why'd you guys join the force, anyway?" Irvine asked suddenly.

Selphie's cheeks were tinged pink, and she was sitting much closer to Irvine than she would have if she was sober. "Because I love working with dogs," she announced. "And I love kicking ass."

"More like you love being a killjoy," Irvine teased.

That earned him an elbow in the ribs. "Shut up."

Zell swallowed another gulp of champagne. "I wanted to do it 'cuz of my gramps. He was a detective sergeant, and the coolest guy ever. When I was a kid, man, I wanted to be just like him. He was my freakin' hero. How 'bout you, Irvine?"

Irvine grinned. "The only other place that _pays_ you to be good at using guns is the military. Most people on the force are crap shots. No offense," he added, flashing a smile to the detectives in the room. "But I'm pretty much unparalleled. You, Rin?"

"Oh, I don't know. I wanted to be a cop ever since I was a little kid. I can't pin it down to one specific _reason_." She looked over her shoulder at her partner and smiled. "Care to share, Squall?"

"Not really."

"Come on, Squall!" Selphie exclaimed.

"It's a long story."

"Just tell us, it's not gonna kill you," Irvine reasoned.

"I just wanted to, OK?" Squall snapped.

"Wow, that's a really long story," Zell said sarcastically. "Come on, man."

"Aw, leave him alone, guys," Rinoa chided, laughing.

"Yeah, okay," Irvine said, checking his watch and yawning. "I guess we've bugged you guys enough anyway. And I wanna sleep."

"I don't wanna drive home," Selphie groused. She rose unsteadily.

Irvine grinned wickedly. "Well, I'd _love_ to escort you, Selphie."

"I'm not _THAT_ drunk!" she said hotly, tottering out the door. "Bye, guys!"

"Better luck next time, Irvine," Rinoa said.

Irvine chuckled. "Oh yeah. She knows it's all in good fun. At least I think she does. Later, Rin."

"Try not to lose your mind!" Zell added. "Fat chance," he mouthed, glancing at Squall.

Rinoa laughed and waved her arms at the door. "Get out of here. Shoo! Go live your lives," she joked.

After they left, Rinoa sat back and sighed. "This is driving me nuts. Who in their right mind would call at a time like this? What are we still _doing_ here?" she groaned.

"Members of the Ring check in with the boss no matter what time it is. And I already _said_ you could go home," Squall muttered.

She turned to look at him. "_I _already said that I'm not going to. And how come you don't talk to them?" she asked.

"Who?" he said, even though he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"You know who I mean. Selphie and the rest." She rubbed her eyes. "They think you don't like them."

"Well…"

"Never mind," Rinoa interrupted hastily. "It's just that you could be a little nicer."

He didn't say anything for a while. "Why let people drag you down?" he said finally. She knew that he was talking about the champagne.

There was a long silence. _Do I drag you down, Squall_? She couldn't help feeling a bit hurt.

Surprisingly, it was Squall who broke the heavy silence. "Eveann faxed me the results on the bullet while you were out."

"Oh…yeah," she responded distractedly. "What'd they say?"

"The bullet's a .22 short," Squall answered. "Lead plated with copper. High accuracy, low recoil, and low noise. It's basically the assassin's choice." There was something like satisfaction on Squall's face. "It's also the bullet that the ROT uses on all of their missions."

"Get out. Seriously?" Rinoa asked.

Squall nodded. "They come pretty cheap, and the Ring doesn't have much in terms of funding."

"Well, see?" Rinoa said happily. "We've got evidence! We'll show 'em."

"It's not going to go very far," Squall replied. But he still smiled thinly.

"So what's the plan?"

"Once we get a transmission that we can use, Raijin's gonna trace it to the location. And I'll probably get a warrant to search the place. Then I'm gonna keep an eye on Monroe's comings and goings so we can follow him to a meeting. That's when we bust 'em."

"Good plan!" Rinoa said enthusiastically. "Sounds like a lot of waiting, though."

"It will be," Squall responded. "And something's likely to go wrong. But for now, that's how it's going to go down." He paused to yawn. "How's the studying going?"

"Awful. It's like being in college again," Rinoa said, making a face. She had been poring over handbooks until her eyes ached for the past two weeks. "But I guess this stuff is more interesting than Comp Sci, huh?"

_College student, huh? _"What did you major in?"

She looked at her hands, suddenly reddening. "Economics," she mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong with that?"

She sat back and scowled. "I hated it," she answered sourly.

"So why'd you do it?" he asked. _Why so curious?_ he asked himself.

"No fair!" she cried. "I'll tell you when you tell me why you joined the force. Deal?"

Squall didn't seem particularly inclined to share.

"You're annoying," Rinoa huffed.

"Ouch."

"But seriously, why does everything have to be a big secret?" she snapped. "I mean, is it really the end of the world is someone _knows_ stuff about you?"

"Well, why do you want to know, anyway?" Squall demanded.

That, Rinoa realized, was a very good question that she didn't know the answer to. "I don't know. It's just annoying."

"I'm _very_ hurt," he said dryly.

"You know what, I'm just not gonna talk to you!" she announced. She turned around and sat with her back to him, arms crossed.

"Works for me," Squall said, shrugging.

Barely two minutes passed when Rinoa started fidgeting and sighing. Finally, she turned around and said, "What time is it? I don't have my watch."

"It's almost three."

"Thank you," she said, her voice dignified. Then she turned right back around and stopped speaking to him again.

He stared at her back, somewhat bewildered. _What just happened_? She looked like a kid that had just been put in time-out. For some reason, it made him want to laugh, but he coughed instead.

By 4:15, she had fallen asleep. Her hair was draped over her face and she twitched occasionally. Squall continually pinched himself on the arm to keep himself from drifting off. (As a result, the skin on his arm turned a mottled, painful pink.)

He tapped his index finger impatiently on the headphones. _Come on. Give me something. _He knew it couldn't be long now, but the minutes felt like hours.

The entire station was empty and silent as a tomb. Even Quistis had left. But before she had gone, Squall had made sure to secure a search warrant for wherever the Ring's hideout was. _At least I've got plenty of time to wait._

He looked disdainfully at the dozing Raijin. _Useless. What if we get a transmission, huh?_

He sighed, gave himself another sharp pinch on the arm, and waited.

It was 4:42 when the call came in. "Boss," Tim Monroe's reedy voice implored.

Squall snapped to attention immediately, his exhaustion forgotten. "Raijin. _Raijin_. Wake _up_." When Raijin still snored, Squall rolled his eyes and slapped him on the side of the head. "This is it. Come on, trace it."

Yawning, Raijin obeyed. "It's gonna take a minute, ya know?" he said wearily. Squall listened to the call.

"Why, Tim, it's a bit early for social calls," a silky voice responded. Squall narrowed his eyes. Whose voice was this? He didn't recognize it.

"It's important, Boss. I…" Tim trailed off. "_I think they're watching me._"

"_Who_ is watching you?" the boss said, a trace of impatience in his voice.

"The cops, Boss, Leonhart…all of them! You _said_ that you wouldn't let them take me in…" Tim's voice was frantic and manic now.

"That still stands, Tim. I haven't forgotten."

"They're watching me, I know it! They're gonna come and get me! You have to do something!" Tim screamed.

"Got it," Raijin told Squall.

"Write down the address," Squall ordered. He clamped the headphones to his ear intently.

The boss's voice had turned cold. "I want you to hang up the phone right now, Tim. You've deliberately put us in danger by making this call. Is that what you wanted?"

"No," Tim muttered mutinously. He hung up.

_Too late_, Squall thought. _I've got you._ "Got it, Raijin?"

Raijin nodded, handing Squall a slip of paper with an address on it.

"Lovely," he said absently, pocketing it. He motioned to Rinoa. "Wake her up. We're going."

Rinoa stirred and lifted her head. "What's goin' on?" she said, her voice slurred from sleepiness.

"You're speaking to me again, I see," he remarked dryly.

"Call it a temporary truce," she said, rubbing her eyes. "What's going on?"

"We're going."

"Well, I guessed _that_, but tell me what's going on!" she demanded, planting herself in his path.

He didn't look annoyed with her, as he would have normally. Instead, his eyes looked slightly triumphant and adventurous. He looked five years younger.

"Feeling lucky?"

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There you have it! Next chapter is definitely going to be pretty exciting.

To those who think that this story is almost over…fear not. It is far from the end.

Later,

peridotaurora


	11. Boys Don't Cry

**Disclaimer**: Not mine. I can't think of anything wittier to say than that.

**Chapter Warnings**: A bit of swearing, and pretty creepy/graphic images.

**Chapter Summary**: Squall and Rinoa go behind enemy lines to find what they've been missing.

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_Run_

_You've become all you lost_

_Wandering the streets and searching for a place to die_

-"Give It Up" by Midtown

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**The Force**

**Chapter Eleven**

The sky was a pale lime green as Squall and Rinoa drove to 391 Parkfield Court, the address that Raijin had retrieved.

Rinoa squinted as she peered out the car window. "…is this really it? It's a church."

"Fits, doesn't it?" Squall remarked. "Don't worry, there's not gonna be a soul inside. I think they already know we're coming."

"_What_?" Rinoa demanded, stopping short. "Then what's the point?"

"Don't be dim. If no one's there, then it makes it easier to search."

The large church doors had a "Closed for Renovations" sign plastered across them.

"Ha! Of course," Rinoa said decisively. "They pick the abandoned, creepy church. _So_ cliché."

Squall refrained from rolling his eyes. "This is going to be locked."

"Let's go around back," Rinoa said, crunching through the dewy grass. "Sheesh. It's not that pretty in the back." The back of the church looked like it hadn't been tended to in more than five years. The grass was patchy and the bricks were coated in grime.

There was a dingy red door perched precariously on its hinges. Rinoa tried that one, too. "Rats. Locked."

"What'd you think?" Squall retorted. Why hadn't he thought of this? "Come on, maybe we can find a window…what the hell are you doing?"

Before he could stop her, Rinoa was backing up and sprinting at the door. She barreled into it, squealing as she fell down with it. Since the door was half-off its hinges anyway, it broke off with relative ease. "_Ow_!" she groaned from the floor.

"Are you _insane_ or just mentally deficient?" he hissed at her. She didn't answer, her face screwed up from pain.

He exhaled and rolled his eyes. "I'm sure they won't find it _at all_ suspicious that their door's been broken in the dead of night."

"I'm more concerned with the fact that I broke my shoulder," she moaned, still on the floor.

"You did not," he said impatiently, but he still helped her up and tested her shoulder for breakage. "It's fine. Now can you _please_ try not to do anything stupid for the rest of the day?"

"At least I got us in," she grumbled. She dusted herself off and surveyed her surroundings. "Wow. This place is cool." She tilted her head back to look at the soaring rafters and stained glass windows.

Squall was still frowning at the empty doorway. Rinoa saw him and sighed impatiently. "Will you relax? They won't care. We can just like...leave them a note," she joked.

She paced around the room and mimed writing on an imaginary piece of paper. "_Dear ROT, we came to arrest you, but you weren't around. Therefore, we're gonna dig around in all your stuff in order to kick your asses at a later time. P.S., sorry about the door. Love, Rinoa and Squall._" She stopped and grinned. "What do you think?"

"Nice. Now let's split up and look around. Don't break anything. Actually, Heartilly...don't touch anything."

She pouted. "Why don't you just say, 'Hey, Rinoa, wanna sit in the corner and not do anything?'"

"Would you?" Squall said, smirking at her scowl.

Rinoa turned away and ran a finger along a wooden pew, her finger tracing a path through the layer of dust. She lifted the seat, where the hymn books usually resided. There was nothing.

Squall's attention was focused on the confessional. He drew aside the purple velvet curtain and stepped inside on of the compartments. It was small, claustrophically so. There was hardly room to turn around. He rapped on the thin walls with his knuckle, looking for hollow spots. There was a crucifix hanging over a small wooden screen that separated the two compartments.

Suddenly, an eerie voice hissed through the screen, "Tell me your sins, my child."

Squall jumped, his head hitting the ceiling of the confessional. He heard Rinoa burst into laughter from the other compartment. "Ow! Jesus, Heartilly, stop screwing around," he spat.

The confessional was still shaking slightly because Rinoa was leaning against the wall, convulsed with laughter. "Oh man! I totally got you."

"If you're not gonna take this seriously, get the hell out."

"Fine."

He took one last look around his compartment. "Anything over on your end, Heartilly?"

"Um. Doesn't look like it. Except for this little chair. Why would they use this thing, anyway?" She peeked at him through the wooden screen.

"Individual conversations with the boss. Nobody ever really _sees_ the head guy, not unless they're really high up on the chain. This is what they'd use when they're having a one-on-one."

"How do you know this, anyway? Are you _sure_ you're not a member?" Rinoa teased.

"That's for me to know and you to find out." He swept aside the curtain and stepped out.

She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God. Squall Leonhart just made a joke." She checked the ceiling for flying pigs.

He rolled his eyes and motioned for her to follow him. "Come on. Let's check the back room."

"I've always wanted to go into the back room of a church," Rinoa said cheerfully. "You know, see where they keep the holy water and stuff. Ever since I was a little kid."

_Well, congratulations. You're about to get your wish_.

The back room was a dim, gray cement-walled space. The only things occupying the grim room were a small, square safe and a desk with a computer resting on it. There was no holy water in sight, much to Rinoa's disappointment.

"This is pretty anti-climactic," she remarked.

He shrugged. "Looks like you weren't missing much." He tapped on the wooden floor with one foot, checking for loose floorboards.

"Squall! Now is not the time to be practicing your tap dancing," Rinoa joked.

He shot her a look. "Alright, I'll take the safe, you take the computer.

Rinoa perched herself at the creaky desk. It was perfectly bare except for the computer. "This is a _nice_ model. They should consider getting these back at the station," Rinoa said approvingly. She booted it up and the screen flashed on. "Uh, Squall? Big problem."

"What?" he said, in the middle of trying to open the safe.

"Password," she replied, jerking a thumb at the computer. "What are we gonna do about that?"

"Hm…that might be a bit of a problem."

"Yeah, just a bit," she said sarcastically.

Squall closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to think. "Whatever. We can just take it to the ED later and see if Raijin can get in. Now be quiet so I can get this open." He put his ear to the door of the safe, listening for the clicks that would signify the right combination.

Rinoa sighed in frustration. "This is nuts. What if someone comes in?"

"Shut _up_," Squall hissed. He gave the lock another spin.

When he finally got the right combination, his blood ran like ice. The numbers were 2-22-87.

_Makes sense_, he thought dully. _That date was the defining day of this generation of the Ring, after all…_

At first, the safe appeared to be empty. All Squall got initially was a handful of cobwebs. But a thin manila folder rested at the very back of the safe.

Adrenaline surged in Squall's system. He gingerly opened the folder. The tab read "Project Astyanax."

But as soon as he saw what inside the folder, he snapped it back shut. A sick feeling swept over him, and he drew a ragged breath.

"Squall?" Rinoa asked, turning around to look at him. "Hey, you OK?"

He didn't answer, rising to his feet. "Try this for a password," he said shortly. "Astyanax."

She turned back to the computer, fingers poised over the keyboard. "How the hell do you _spell_ that? Is that even a word?"

He bent over her and typed it in himself. His face was bloodless, eyes glazed.

"Well, that worked! How'd you figure it out, anyway?" she said happily. She abruptly stopped smiling when she got a look at her partner. "What's the matter?"

He just shook his head, his hand still gripping the manila folder.

Rinoa motioned to it. "What's in there, anyway? Something useful?"

He hesitated. "I don't know. I'll put it in the car, and we'll take it to the station. You do what you can with this," he said, gesturing at the computer. "I'll be right back."

"Can I at least see it?" she asked him, but he was already out the door.

When he reached the car, he tossed the folder on the backseat and slammed the door shut. When he was quite sure that no one was around, he rested the back of his head on the hood of the car. For a while, he felt like he was going to be sick, as the dry heaves wracked his body. But it didn't come, and he was left gasping for breath as the sun peeked over the hills.

But when the tears started to burn his eyes, he shook his head fiercely and told himself to get a grip. There was no way he could work like this, he knew. He wiped his eyes and braced himself for the return.

When Rinoa saw Squall come in with slightly bloodshot eyes, her heart broke for him, but she knew it wouldn't do any good if she asked. What could have possibly been in that folder? "Get anything?" he asked, as if nothing was wrong.

"Look at _this_," she said, a mixture of awe and horror in her voice.

He leaned over her to look at the screen, narrowing his eyes. "What…"

"Kids," she finished for him. "Fifty pictures of different kids. And look," she said, pulling up a file. "Here's Jason Iverson, Tia Montano, and Elizabeth Haywood."

Squall clicked through, pictures of beaming children flashing up one by one on the screen. "Victims," he said quietly. "These are all future victims."

Rinoa nodded. "That's what I thought, too," she said. "And look--the file name that they were saved under? Astyanax. What does that even _mean_?"

"No clue," Squall answered, still fixed on the parade of photographs. Boys, girls, toddlers, preteens, children of every color. "There are no similarities between any of these kids. They're random. All of them."

"This is weird," Rinoa murmured, staring at a picture of a curly-haired, cherubic boy.

"Yeah. Find anything else?"

"Nothing really. Some documents, but it was stuff like 'The Ring of Truth Manifesto' and things like that. Nothing of real help to _this _investigation. Wait, it's also got their financial records."

"That'll do. Print those out. Any way of IDing those kids?" he asked over the chugging of the printer.

Rinoa checked. "Doesn't look like it. No name, no nothing…we have no way of saving them," she said softly.

"We can if we act fast. Email those pictures to yourself, and we'll do what we can to ID them at the station. Let's get out of here." He suddenly felt ready to collapse with exhaustion.

She turned off the computer, and looked around the room one last time. "I guess that's all there is to find here," she said. "How disappointing." She followed him out into the front of the church. The sun was up now, and Rinoa squinted, wishing for her sunglasses.

"Man! I'm starving. Screw it, when I get back to the station, I'm having a donut. I'm on a new diet. The Cop Diet," Rinoa exclaimed.

"The Cop Diet," Squall repeated wryly.

"Yeah, the Cop Diet. Bad coffee, fatty food, and lots of running around." She grinned at him.

"Sounds good."

"Yup. You know, you did good in there," she said, nudging him with her elbow. "I think we're getting to be a good team, don't you?"

He snorted. She nudged him again, harder this time. "Aw, you know it! You just don't wanna admit how much you like having me around."

He nudged her back this time. "Dream on."

"I _will_, thank you very much," she told him, putting her hands behind her head. "What do we do now?"

"If I had a dollar for every time you asked that…" he said, shaking his head.

"You'd be rich, I know," she finished for him. "Tell me anyway."

"I don't know about you, but I'm going home and making you take the car back to the station. After that, you can do…whatever."

"Does sleeping 'til noon count as 'whatever'?" she asked hopefully.

"Whatever."

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After she had dropped Squall off, she swung into a parking space at the station. She turned off the engine and just sat for a minute. Her eyes fell on the manila folder in the backseat. It rested tantalizingly on the seat, saying "come hither" because it seemed to know that Rinoa wouldn't be able to refuse.

_I have a right to know...it's evidence, isn't it?_

Finally, she clambered into the backseat and dropped the folder into her lap. She flipped it open and spread out the contents.

The first layer was made up of newspaper headlines. Headlines of bold newsprint were scattered around in the folder. They were all dated within the last five years.

"**BALAMB'S NEW TOP DETECTIVE**?"

"**PRIMARY INVESTIGATOR SAYS SUSPECT HAS CONFESSED."**

**"LIEUTENANT VOWS TO INCARCERATE JOHNSON."**

Rinoa's eyes were wide. They were tracking him. The Ring was virtually tracking Squall's progress in the news.

The second layer of clippings was comprised of pictures of Squall himself. A younger Squall, frowning away from the camera. Squall, leading a handcuffed criminal through a barrage of reporters.

"Damn," she whispered. No wonder Squall had been freaked. This was like something straight from some creepy movie.

But Rinoa soon found out that the worst stuff was yet to come.

She unfurled a yellowing newspaper clipping carefully. This one was a whole story. She started to read.

**POLITICAL TERRORIST ORGANIZATION RESPONSIBLE FOR BALAMB MURDERS**

_February 23, 1987_

_Laguna Loire, famed for the notorious drug-running scheme of last year, was killed in his home yesterday along with his wife Raine ,38, and his daughter Ellone, 11._

_Autopsy reports state that Loire, 40, and his family died from multiple stab wounds in the chest and abdomen._

_The report by Detective Sergeant Peter Olsen said that the culprit was a member of the political terrorism sect called the Ring of Truth. This information was provided by the Loire family's sole survivor, son Squall, age 8. (Having no surviving relatives, the Loire son will likely be placed in a federal orphanage.)  
The Ring of Truth, responsible for such acts of terror as the kidnapping of Sierra Delaney and the murder of a Balamb senator, was established in 1981 by Asher and Thetis Doyle as a lobbyist organization. _

_Olsen says that the Balamb Police Department "has no suspects as of yet, but we will find this killer by any means necessary."_

Rinoa stopped and clamped a hand to her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut to ward off tears. This was sick. Suddenly, Rinoa felt like she had no idea what she was dealing with.

She had a bad feeling as to what the final contents of the folder were. And she was right: they were pictures.

A shuddering gasp rippled through her body as she saw them. The first picture was of Ellone--spread-eagled out on the floor, bleeding from several slashes in her chest. Mercifully, her eyes were closed, but it didn't hide the pain that this girl had died in. She was wearing blue pajamas with smiling suns on them.

_The little girl got to me._ That's what Thetis had said. Rinoa imagined that this little girl would've gotten to anyone.

The second and last picture was of the woman whom Rinoa imagined was the mother and Laguna Loire himself. The sight of them both swimming in their own blood on their bed was too much for Rinoa to take. She hastily gathered up all the papers, shoved them in the folder, and deposited the folder on her desk.

She immediately drove home, the road blurring and warping through her tears.

_It's not ever worth it, is it?_

_------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_Slash. A hot, sharp pain burned across the bridge of Squall's nose as his blood peppered the carpet. All he could do was scream._

_"Shut up! Stop fucking screaming or I'll give you something to scream about."_

_But he only screamed louder, until he thought his lungs would give out. Maybe someone would hear him, maybe someone would help him._

_Or maybe not._

_Before he could even move again, the knife caught him again, this time slicing him just below his collarbone. Pain threatened to blind him, along with the blood steadily pouring down his face and into his eyes._

_"Who are you?" he choked out as he stumbled across the room, looking for something, anything that would get him out of this._

_"Ring of Truth, kid," the man said, swinging at him with the knife, but missing. "And don't you fucking forget it."_

_Squall's hand closed around the hilt of his rubber-tipped fencing foil. It wasn't sharp enough to cut, but it could deal some damage. His fencing teacher had told him to "never, ever hit anyone with this. It's against the rules."_

_Then again, considering the circumstances, his fencing teacher would probably forgive him for this._

_With all his might, he swung the foil around and clocked the man on the head. The man went down, swearing to beat the band. Squall took no time in sprinting out of the room and down the hall to his parent's room. "Mom, Dad!"_

_But when he saw them sprawled out on the bed, another scream tore through his throat. He ran to them, a small sliver of hope still with him. Maybe they were just knocked out, they could still be alive…couldn't they?_

_They weren't. Their skin felt like those dummies at the wax museum that he had gone to once on a field trip. _

_But before he could feel the full impact of this, he heard the man's footsteps again. "I'll slit your throat, you brat!"_

_Squall bolted, starting to feel dizzy from all the blood that he was losing. Pain had severely slowed him down, but he was soon down the stairs and out the front door. He ran like a bat out of hell for four blocks, then slowed to a walk. But soon, he couldn't even do that. He slumped against the wall of a nearby alleyway, his blood still steadily flowing out of the cut on his face. _

_And finally, inevitably, it all sank in. His family was dead. He had stepped over his sister's dead body to escape. He was an orphan. He had no one._

_After vomiting for ten minutes straight, he lay flat on his back and let his grief devour him, sobbing so hard that he could barely breathe. The blood on his face dried so it was like a stiff mask. He realized that he wouldn't care at all if he was to die, right here, right now. He was eight years old, and wanted desperately to fall asleep and never wake up. Please, let me die. I'll do anything. Please._

_He sat up and tried to think. He couldn't just sit here and wait to die. He had to do something._

_He saw red and blue flashes of light, and went to investigate. Red and blue…red and blue meant cops._

_Two police, one woman, one man, were leaning against their car. Talking about how "it's so goddamn dark around here, would it kill them to put in a streetlight and save a few lives?"_

_Squall stood frozen at the entrance of the alleyway, both wanting and not wanting to get their attention. Were they good cops? And more importantly, would they believe him?_

_The policeman finally noticed the boy standing glued to the ground against the wall. "Hey, kid, you lost?"_

_"Need a ride?" the lady cop said, smiling at him._

_The policeman switched on his flashlight, revealing all the blood on Squall's face. "Holy shit, Trish, the kid's covered in it."_

_Trish looked concerned, kneeling down to look at Squall. "What happened, son? Tell us."_

_"Yeah, kid, tell us who did this."_

_They were cops. Cops were supposed to help, weren't they? _

_So, taking a deep breath, Squall told them._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Squall's eyes flew open, the sun peeking in through his blinds. He was relatively unfazed. He had had that dream many times before.

He got a glimpse at the clock. 10:08 AM. He had gotten almost five hours of sleep, a big improvement on what he usually ran on.

The folder…yeah, it had been a huge shock to the system, but Squall had gotten over it, or so he thought. _I always do, in the end._

There was a message on his answering machine. Squall blinked. He almost never got messages on his answering machine. It probably had something to do with the fact that he had no one who would really want to call him on a casual basis. He doubted if he even knew how to check his messages.

The message, it turned out, was from Rinoa. "Hey, it's me. I just took the car back, so that's taken care of. All the stuff's on my desk if you need it. So here's to sleeping in, right? I don't know about you, but I think we deserve it. Okay, so sleep tight. See ya later."

For some reason, he played it again, listening to her voice fill up the kitchen. Then he scoffed at himself and deleted it to rid himself of the notion that he was more fond of her than he'd like to admit.

There was a note waiting for him on his banister. That was a surprise. He hadn't gotten any of those in a while. It must have been delivered while he was sleeping.

_My dear Lieutenant,_

_This is war._

War indeed, thought Squall. _They must not be too happy that we went through their stuff…and broke their door._

But yes, it was war, and he intended to fight it to the end.

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That's that, then. Have fun reading, and drop me a line when you're done. Update ahoy!

Later,

peridotaurora


	12. Is It Any Wonder?

**Disclaimer**: Don't own, don't own, I say!

**Chapter Warnings**: Swearing, drunkenness, violence, awkward situations…

**Chapter Summary: **When things start getting out of control, Squall takes an uncharacteristic risk.

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_These days_

_After all the misery you made_

_Is it any wonder that I feel afraid?_

-"Is It Any Wonder" by Keane

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**The Force**

**Chapter Twelve**

****

_Caffeine, oh how I love thee_, mused Rinoa, nursing a steaming cup of coffee that she had gotten on the way to work. She didn't think she could take anymore of the station coffee. To her sleep-deprived system, the coffee was a welcome shock to the senses.

Irvine's head popped up as soon as Rinoa was within range. "Where'd you get that?" he demanded immediately.

"How'd you know?" she teased.

"'Cos it doesn't smell like sewer water. Why else?"

Rinoa jokingly clutched the cup to her chest. "Mine. But I'll show you the place later."

Irvine groaned. "What if I can't last 'til then?"

"I'm sure you'll be fine."

Irvine shrugged and spun in his chair once. "So, you going to the ball next Thursday? Quistis just announced it."

Rinoa was jerked out of her coffee-gulping reverie. "Wait, what?"

"Police Officer's Ball, Rin! You seriously don't know? It's a whole charity deal. It's kind of a scam, but it's totally fun," Irvine exclaimed.

"Hmm…how so?"

Irvine grinned lazily. "Aside from the fact that it's the only time that you can get totally wasted _with_ Quistis around?"

Rinoa smiled back. "For some reason, that doesn't surprise me," she joked.

He shrugged, still grinning. "So yeah, Quistis leads all the important people around and tells them how great the force is, and we all sneak off and get sloshed. You in?"

"You sound like a high-schooler," she remarked teasingly.

"They say it never ends. Think about it," Irvine advised as Rinoa turned to go.

"Sure thing," she said over her back. "And you can take Selphie."

"Shh! She's not supposed to know about that! You tryin' to get me killed?" he mocked, laughing.

Irvine was right, Rinoa thought. High school never ended.

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Much to Rinoa's dismay, Squall found it necessary to track down Ian MacGill again to ask him some more questions.

"No way! You're kidding. You're _kidding_."

"If you want, I can leave you here and have you file stuff," he answered, shrugging.

She sighed and glared at him mutinously. This was definitely an example of being between a rock and a hard place.

"Your choice," he said, the corner of his lip upturned. Her wide-eyed look of horror was actually kind of cute. Not that he noticed or cared or anything, he reminded himself immediately.

She gave him one more icy look and grabbed her jacket. "I hate you sometimes."

"That's nice. Can we go?" he asked impatiently, tossing the keys from one hand to the other. "Rush hour's gonna get ugly."

She fell asleep on the way there, cheek pressed against the window and lips slightly parted. Squall tapped a finger on the steering wheel as he was stuck behind an elderly man in a junk bucket and tried to imagine how this must look: a sleeping cop stuck in traffic. He allowed himself a small smile. It _was_ pretty funny, he supposed.

When he had just gotten out of police academy, he used to turn on the siren and barrel through traffic jams when there was no real emergency. But he was older now, and he didn't indulge in stupid things anymore. Plus, if Quistis ever found out, she would've busted a capillary or two. But it was exactly the kind of thing that Rinoa would have laughed like a maniac at.

The car groaned in agony as Squall parallel-parked in front of a tiny cement building sandwiched in between an apartment and a convenience store. Squall had the feeling that the car would break down with him inside someday, just to get its gruesome mechanical revenge.

"Hey! Heartilly. Wake up." Rinoa slept on. "Heartilly!" Rolling his eyes, he gave her a hard poke on the shoulder.

Rinoa jerked awake. "Hmm? Wha? Stop with the poking," she whined.

"Well, look around. We're here."

"And…where exactly_ is _here?" she asked. The building's name was nowhere in sight.

"It's a bar," he said as if it was bleeding obvious.

"Oh." She rubbed her eye while turning her head to look out the car window. "Jeez. What a dive," she remarked. "Are you sure he's here?"

"Unfortunately," Squall said shortly. "Look…since you've got the uniform, they're gonna give you shit, OK? Just ignore it and look nonchalant. Got it?"

"Nonchalant. Got it," she repeated.

He slammed the car door shut and checked the gun in his waist holster to see if it was in working order. "Lovely. Let's go. I'll follow you in."

And so she strode in, looking about as nonchalant as an elephant in a jewelry store.

"Goddamn it," Squall muttered before rushing in to prevent any damage. When he caught up with her, she was standing amongst a hostile, glaring crowd of inebriated men.

"Er…hello," Rinoa began awkwardly.

It took all of Squall's restraint to keep himself from groaning.

"Could anyone tell me where Ian MacGill is?" she practically squeaked. There was a gruff, stubborn silence from the crowd.

Squall rolled his eyes and tapped her on the shoulder to signify that he would take it from here. He flashed the badge so the whole crowd could see. "Let's make this quick and painless, gentlemen. MacGill. Now."

The short, bald bartender jerked a thumb towards a grimy door labeled "PRIVATE." "Back room," he grunted. "But you can't go in there."

"Oh, but I love a challenge," Squall mused. He motioned for Rinoa to follow as he approached the back door.

"You call _that_ inconspicuous, Heartilly?" he hissed as soon as they were out of earshot.

"I'm a cop, not an actress," she grumbled.

"Well, if you keep shit like that up, you won't even be a cop."

"Are you threatening me?" she demanded.

"I most certainly am. Now shut up and let's go." He yanked the door open.

"Hey, you _can't go in there_," the bartender growled emphatically.

"Heartilly, will you go and take care of that pleasant gentleman over there?" Squall said disgustedly. "You have my full permission to threaten him," he added in an undertone.

Rinoa winked at him, even though she was still angry, and engaged in a hushed conversation with the bartender.

Once he was certain that the bartender wasn't looking, Squall slipped into the room. MacGill was lounging comfortably on a decrepit couch, an electric blue drink in his hand and a statuesque, barely-clad woman perched on his lap.

A muscle under Squall's eye twitched involuntarily. This wasn't what he needed to see.

MacGill seemed unfazed. "Whassup, Leenhart?" he slurred, as if this kind of situation happened often.

Squall rubbed his eye to hide the twitching. "Uh…I need to have a word with you," he said distractedly.

"Okay…" MacGill said slowly, waiting for Squall to start.

A beat passed. "_Without_ her," Squall said impatiently, inclining his head towards the woman.

"Oh, right," MacGill said. He patted her on the bottom. "Up you get." The girl trotted to the door just as Rinoa came in.

"Oh. Um…" she trailed off, looking questioningly at Squall.

Squall gave her a look as if to say "_Don't ask_," and turned to MacGill. "Okay, let's do this fast."

"Sure thing, man," MacGill answered blithely, raising his glass to Squall as if toasting him.

Squall took that opportunity to pluck the glass from his hands. "How many of these did you drink, MacGill?" he asked disapprovingly.

MacGill tried to focus his eyes without much success. "Uh…five. Six," he said thickly, evidently stumped.

Squall grimaced, as if he could hear the agony that MacGill's liver was in. "Jesus." He sniffed the drink inquisitively and immediately shuddered. "What the fuck is _in_ this?"

"A lotta stuff," MacGill mumbled, twisting a strand of his newly-dyed neon green hair around his forefinger.

Squall looked heavenward. "That's it. I'm going to get you sober so we can at least get something remotely coherent out of you."

Several long drinks of water and an hour of drunken yammering later, MacGill had gained back at least some of the power to think.

"Okay. Let's try this again," Squall said. MacGill nodded gamely. "Think back to your days in the Ring. Project Astyanax. Does it ring a bell?"

The easygoing expression on MacGill's face faded fast. "…Yeah," he finally said darkly.

"Good. Tell me anything you know about it. Don't leave anything out."

"And tell us what the name means," Rinoa piped up.

MacGill grinned at her. "Okay. You know anything about the Trojan War?" He laughed at the blank look on Squall's face. "Me neither. But this is how the boss explained it."

He rubbed his forehead several times as if preparing to tell the story. "Okay. Here's what I remember. This is way, way back, in like, ancient times. Two countries, the Greeks and the Trojans, fought each other for ten years 'cause of some chick and lots of people died and blah blah blah..." MacGill said, waving his hand around as if this fact was inconsequential. "But at the end, after the Trojans lost…this is where we come in. Following me?"

"Trying to," Squall said dryly.

MacGill raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I forgot how snarky you can be sometimes, man."

"And I forgot how much of a moron you can be all the time. But that's not the point. Go on."

But MacGill only laughed. "Man, you're such an ass. Anyways, after the Greeks won, they killed the Trojan king and everything. But his _son_…his son was only a baby. So they didn't kill him right away. But they knew they couldn't let him live, 'cause he would probably come and get revenge for his dad. So they climbed to the top of a cliff and _threw the kid right off_," MacGill said, gesturing wildly. "And the kid's name? Astyanax."

"That's interesting and everything, but I still don't see what it has to do with this."

MacGill looked impatient. "Dude, don't you get it? It's all in the symbolism. Your old man's the Trojan king. The Ring is the Greek army. And _you_," he said emphatically, pointing at Squall. "You're Astyanax."

Squall froze. He had forgotten that Rinoa was in the room. And now…she knew almost everything. He meticulously avoided looking her in the eye.

Silence hung thick in the room for a couple of minutes. Then Squall said, "But the other kids…"

"They don't give a shit about the other kids," MacGill cut in. "They just want you. The other kids are just bait. They want your attention so they can throw you off the cliff."

"It's just a figurative cliff, right?" Squall said sarcastically.

MacGill glared at him. "Leonhart, this isn't a joke. They mean it."

There was another heavy silence. MacGill seemed satisfied and leaned back. "This plan's been in the works ever since they found out that you were still alive. I was there when they proposed it. Ah jeez…the boss seemed really buzzed that night. 'We will eliminate all threats to our golden organization,'…I walked out that night. I went to meetings on and off for the next year, but when they talked about Project Astyanax, that's when I went home."

A rare, mournful look was on MacGill's face. "I just…whenever they talked about it, I thought of this little kid. I thought of you, and whether or not you knew that we were going to kill you. And that's when I decided it was all really fucked up and I left for good."

"You did the right thing," Rinoa announced decisively. Then, before Squall could yell at her, she gave MacGill a flimsy hug.

MacGill squawked in surprise. "Well, shit. I would've done it a thousand times if I knew it would get me hugs from beautiful women! C'mere, you."

Squall rolled his eyes again and mouthed the word "unprofessional" at Rinoa. She merely stuck out her tongue at him.

Squall was about to reprimand the both of them when his pager beeped. He frowned immediately when he saw who it was from.

"Heartilly," he said. Her head popped up and she jumped away from MacGill. "It's Seifer. We gotta go."

"Somebody died?" MacGill said quietly, his eyes narrowed.

Squall stopped at the door and took a deep breath.

"Yeah, Ian. Somebody died."

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Quistis was the last person that Squall expected (or wanted) to see at the crime scene, a stately townhouse on the Eastern side of Balamb.

"Any particular reason why you're here?" he asked without looking at her, ducking under the yellow crime tape.

"There has to be _someone_ competent at the scene at all times," she replied icily.

Squall stopped in his tracks. "_Excuse _me?" he demanded.

Quistis turned around. "Four children. _Four_ have died, and you haven't gotten any further since the day you started. My phone has been ringing offthe hook with people _demanding_ your resignation. I have half a mind to let you go right now."

This would have scared Squall a lot more if Quistis didn't threaten to do it at least twice a month. "All I need is one day…" he began, but Quistis cut him off.

"I've been far too lenient with you with this case, and I'm not making the same mistake again. You picked a bad time to start losing your touch, Lieutenant."

Rinoa suddenly remembered why she was so scared of Quistis. If looks could kill, Squall would be dead ten times over. But he was glaring right back at her, clearly holding his own in what seemed like a malicious staring contest.

"Almasy," Quistis called over her shoulder. Seifer sauntered over momentarily, smiling slightly at the look of fury on Squall's face. "Leonhart, meet your new primary investigator."

Anger injected its sharp fangs into Squall's veins. "You're looking for competency and you made _him_ primary?" he spat.

"I'm looking for results, Squall," Quistis answered smoothly. "You're free to go."

His hands shaking very slightly, he turned on his heel and started to storm off.

"How the mighty have fallen. Thanks for the job, Leonhart," Seifer remarked quietly when Quistis's back was turned. Squall was _this_ close to whirling around and socking him, but he decided that it wouldn't make a very good example.

"Don't get too comfortable," was all that he said. He started walking again. _Head up. Dignity at all times. Revenge is a dish best eaten cold_, he thought to himself over and over again as he reached the car.

They were silent for what seemed like hours. Rinoa looked at her hands as Squall drove, his lips set in a tight line.

"I'm sorry," was all that Rinoa could think of saying.

"For what?" he asked quietly. Then they were silent for another eternity.

"You know…I still think you're the best cop I've ever seen," she piped up suddenly. "And I'd be willing to tell Quistis that, too."

Squall's knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel hard. "That's nice and everything, but your opinion wouldn't matter much to her."

"Well, I'd still tell her," she said stubbornly. "And I bet that a lot of people would agree with me."

He slowed the car to a stop and idled near the curb.

"So…what happens now?" she asked, smiling. Maybe if she gave him plenty of opportunities to tease her, he'd feel better. It sounded like a good plan to her.

But he didn't take the bait. He just leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. "I don't know," he admitted.

Rinoa sat up straight, alarmed. "But…_Squall_! You're supposed to say 'how many times do you ask me that damn question?' or some other smartass comment, and then I'm supposed to bug you more and then you finally tell me what we do next," she exclaimed, jostling his shoulder.

Squall didn't answer for a moment and Rinoa pretended to pout. Finally, he opened one eye and said, "Fine. How many times do you ask me that damn question?"

"Yay!" she cried, throwing her arms up in the air. "Okay, now tell me what we do next."

"I told you, I don't know."

"Liar. You're the man with the plan," she declared. "So what's the plan?"

"If I have to tell you again, Heartilly…"

She laughed gaily. "Oh, good, you're threatening me. That means you're back to normal." She gave him another grin. "But in all seriousness, I still think you kick ass as a cop."

"Uh, thanks," he said distractedly. He wasn't used to getting compliments. He was more used to people yelling "_You're a crazy son of a bitch, Leonhart!_" And saying "thank you" was never required for that situation, unless he really felt like being a smartass.

"I don't think Seifer can do this," Rinoa said, uncharacteristically scathing.

"Because they don't want him to," Squall answered.

"Who doesn't? Quistis? Wait, then why--"

"Not Quistis. The Ring. They don't want Seifer. They want me. Their plan won't work without me on the case." Squall's voice seemed hollow and unconcerned. "Once they find out about this, there's gonna be hell to pay."

"Well then, we gotta tell Quistis!" Rinoa cried, scandalized.

Squall snorted. "She'd think that I made this up so I could get back on the case."

"What are we going to do, then?" Rinoa demanded. "We can't just sit back on this. Did you forget that _fifty kids_ are counting on us?"

Mercifully, Squall's features were contorted into the expression that Rinoa referred to as "Squall's thinking face". It was how Rinoa knew that something important was going to happen.

"We're not going to get the details on the victim until _tomorrow_," she pointed out.

Suddenly, Squall yanked the gear shift and swung back into the middle of the road. "We don't have to," he answered shortly.

"Wait…what are you doing?" Rinoa asked immediately. He was now driving fast enough to make her check her seatbelt for security. "Come on, Squall, I'm too young to die."

"No one's too young to die," he replied, without taking his eyes off the road.

"That's not exactly reassuring!" she exclaimed in a high-pitched voice. "What are you _doing_?" She flinched as Squall narrowly avoided skimming the curb.

"Here's another lesson for you," he said. "But don't tell anybody that I said this. Sometimes, you have to take matters into your own hands."

"Squall…" she said slowly. "We're not doing anything…_illegal_, are we?"

"Not necessarily."

"That means yes, doesn't it?" she said shrewdly. "That's just great. You'll get the both of us fired. Great."

"This is a surprise, coming from a girl who regularly threatens barmen and knocks down doors without authorization," he remarked.

She scowled. "That was only once. Hey, isn't this…"

"Monroe's house? Yes, it is. Up for an all-nighter?"

"_No_!"

"Too bad. We're staking out," Squall said, parking the car two houses down from Monroe's house, where it couldn't be easily seen.

Rinoa groaned. "Do you _like_ making me miserable?"

"I think the answer might upset you," he said mildly. "And do you think that I'll have it any easier being stuck in a car with _you_ all night?"

Rinoa didn't dignify that comment with a response. "Ugh. Wake me up when you get something."

"Sorry. You're staying awake."

She bit back another groan of frustration and started mentally preparing for what was going to be a long, long night.

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Squall tossed a pair of heavy binoculars from hand to hand to keep himself awake. As he got more and more tired, his movements got more and more sluggish.

Rinoa was bent over a crossword puzzle from a week-old newspaper that she had found crumpled at the bottom of the seat. "Nine letter word for 'relating to money' beginning with 'p'" she challenged Squall.

He raised an eyebrow at her and didn't answer.

"Fine. Pardon me for trying to improve your vocabulary," she said, tossing the paper back to the floor. "Remind me again why we're staking out a dry-cleaner in the middle of the night. Without authorization, I might add."

Squall sighed. "They killed again tonight. You can be sure that they're going to meet up again to decide what they're gonna do next. When Monroe steps out of that house, we've got them. It's just a matter of following him."

"Sounds sweet. Tonight's the night we bust 'em?"

"If all goes well," Squall answered, shrugging.

"Where's your sense of optimism?" she teased.

"It's sharing a house with your common sense," he replied, the corner of his mouth upturning.

Her jaw dropped. "Ooh! That was low. Is this just 'cause I hugged MacGill? It is, isn't it?"

"Among other things."

"Well, I couldn't help it. When you look at it, he's a great guy. Aside from the drug stuff and all. He's such a sweetie."

"You're the worst cop I've ever seen," Squall said, shaking his head. But he was smiling, so Rinoa didn't get angry.

"You know what? You're just jealous of my people skills," she taunted.

"Oh, _definitely_."

"This really puts me in the mood for a donut. I don't care if it's stereotypical," Rinoa complained. "I'm behind on the Cop Diet." She had the feeling that her blood sugar was steadily plummeting.

"Oh, well, we can't have that."

She looked at him exasperatedly. "Is there, like, an 'off' button for your sarcasm? It's getting really annoying."

"You're being unusually snippy," Squall commented. "Considering that it's…you."

Rinoa re-did her ponytail, an elastic clamped between her lips as she gathered all her hair up. After she finished, she said, "It's probably got something to do with the fact that I work all day and all night with people who've got permanent male PMS."

"Wouldn't be me you're talking about, would it?" he said sardonically.

"_Maay_be," she said coyly. "But I guess you're not _that_ bad, when you put it into perspective. There could be worse things. Like being mauled by…a Chocobo."

"Well, _that's_ a relief. Here I was, all worried about it…" He knew he was being annoying, but it was like a reflex to him. He made a mental note to work on his people skills, but then again, what was the point?

She checked her reflection in the side-view mirror. "So, about what MacGill said today…"

A tic in Squall's jaw twitched before he could do anything about it. He had been dreading the moment that she'd bring this up. "What about it?" he said calmly.

"I just…didn't know," she lied. She had to turn away because she always, _always_ blushed when she lied.

"Well, now you do."

And that was the end of that.

Suddenly, Squall noticed movement in the driveway. Unfortunately, it had gotten dark two hours ago, so the vision wasn't that perfect. Squall found himself wishing that he had night vision.

"Uh…so, Squall," she said, desperately trying to change the subject. "Nine-letter word starting with 'p' that means 'relating to money'."

He rolled his eyes as he lifted up the binoculars. "Pecuniary. Now shut up, I think he's coming out."

_Hey, he's right_. "Wait, what? That's him? Seriously?"

Squall squinted as he peered through the binoculars. "Definitely. We're on."

Tim hopped into his olive-green pickup truck and pulled out of his driveway. Squall waited until Tim reached an intersection to start following him.

"When you're in pursuit," Squall told Rinoa as he drove. "You always stay at least half a mile behind them when the situation isn't crucial. If they notice you, _that's_ when you start speeding up."

"Right."

They continued in this manner for 15 minutes, with Squall slowly tailing the green pickup.

"Uh, Squall? I don't know where we are."

"Yes, you do. We're getting close to that church."

Rinoa grinned. "Oh! Were we right, or were we right?"

Squall smirked. "Yeah. Maybe this is when they'll discover the broken door."

She laughed. "Oh God. That means they'll be after me, too." Then she realized what a stupid thing she had just said and felt like kicking herself. But Squall seemed too absorbed to notice or care.

Because at that moment, Tim caught on.

Squall thought he saw Monroe's eyes widen in horror. The green pickup truck roared as Tim gunned the engine and blazed down the highway.

"Damn it. That wasn't smart, Monroe. Heartilly, turn on the siren."

"Well, look at it this way," Rinoa said cheerfully as the siren blared. "Now we can add resisting arrest to his charges!"

Squall ignored her and punched the gas pedal, silently begging the car to stay functional. _If you die on me now, I'll take you to the junkyard, I swear…_

Rinoa sat up straight, eyes fixed intently on the green pickup. _This_ was what she had pictured when she joined the force--exciting stuff, like car chases. Not slogging through the drudgery of paperwork and interviewing.

"He's gonna take the north exit," she said quickly.

"No, he's not. He wouldn't go uptown; there's too many people there."

"But he's in the _left _lane!" Rinoa cried.

"What is he doing?" Squall muttered as he heard the screech of Monroe's tires. "Heartilly, call Almasy and Dincht for back-up."

She hesitated. "Are you sure?" If word of this got back to the station, the two of them would be in major trouble.

Squall seemed to be undergoing an internal struggle. Finally, he sighed and said, "Yes."

Rinoa picked up the radio and started transmitting. "Heartilly and Leonhart, requesting backup, repeat, requesting backup. We have a code…um…code…" This was definitely _not_ the time to be forgetting her police codes. _Think, Rinoa, think_. _Code for runaway driver…_

"595," Squall reminded her under his breath.

"A code 595. License plate number is…ADE87M9. Location is on Freeway 54. Repeat, requesting backup…"

She kept speaking frantically into the radio as Squall sped down the freeway. Suddenly, the transmission was interrupted by Rinoa's scream as another car came out of nowhere and slammed into the left rear door. They were both thinking the same thing: _Where did that come from?_

Both cars spun around at a dizzying speed until they crashed against the iron fence at the side of the road and fell into a ditch. The black car that had hit them had a crumpled hood and the fender was falling off. Squall didn't even want to look at the damage that his car had suffered.

He heard another screech of tires as the olive-green pickup truck pulled up. He understood now. The black car that had hit them was working with Monroe.

"You alright, Heartilly?"

"Yeah…" she said weakly. Aside from a cricked neck, she was perfectly alright. "What _was_ that?"

Squall didn't answer her. Blood was trickling slowly from a small cut on his temple, where his head had collided with the side of the car. He was listening to the conversation between Monroe and the other driver.

"Are they dead?" Monroe asked.

"No, Tim, they're not. I assume you can take care of that?" an familiar, silky voice replied impatiently. Squall recognized it as the one from the transmission from Monroe's house.

"We'll do it together, Boss," Monroe pleaded.

"Very well. Together, then."

"_Stay_," Squall hissed to Rinoa, as if commanding a dog. Before she could object, he vaulted out of the car and disappeared from sight. She heard him say, "Hands up!"

Then came the gunshots.

"Oh no," she whispered, shrinking into her seat. She vaguely remembered hearing Squall shouting at them to drop their weapons before he returned fire. She could just see him in her mind, bleeding. Dying.

She was terrified, and she hated herself for it. But she knew she had to do something. But he had told her to stay. _Ordered_ her to stay.

_Serve and protect._ The cop's motto…it meant protecting other cops too, didn't it? So _technically_, she wouldn't get in trouble if she helped out, would she?

_Sometimes, you gotta take matters into your own hands, _Squall had said. Hell, if it was _his_ advice, then she was totally justified in doing it.

She yanked her gun out of the holster and leaped out of the car. Squall was behind the ruined black car, reloading bullets. She ran to him like a bat out of hell.

"I told you to stay in the car," he spat, shoving a cartridge into the gun and clicking it shut.

"I'm taking matters into my own hands," she answered.

"Heartilly, _get back in the_--"

She heard the shatter of breaking glass as a bullet careened through the window of the car. Before even thinking about it, she threw herself at Squall and…the only word that Squall could think of for what she did was "tackled." She tackled him and they both landed hard on the gravel. Squall was about to yell something along the lines of "_Are you out of your MIND?"_ but he never really got the chance. He scrambled to his feet and darted out from behind the car.

Rinoa heard the squeal of tires and the crunch of flying gravel and knew that Seifer and Zell had arrived at last. She took several deep breaths. Time to take the plunge.

Her arm shook violently as she fired the first shot. She hadn't fired a gun since Academy, and those were only blanks. It whizzed off to the left, into the trees.

Squall was about to take another shot when he heard the scream.

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The funny thing was, Rinoa didn't scream at first. At first, she only felt a stinging and a burning. But she screamed when she checked her shoulder and saw all the blood. _Then_ it started really hurting.

After that, her memory was in tatters, like her mind had just been shoved through a paper shredder. She was only aware of noises in the vicinity. Zell screaming "_Rin!_" Gunshots. Squall telling Seifer to not let them get away. More gunshots. Squall saying, "For God's sake, Heartilly, stay awake." He never had that in his voice before. The desperation. _Funny_, she remembered thinking. _He just might be worried about me._ She remembered her knees feeling like water and scraping against the gravel. She screamed again when Zell tried to get the bullet out using his fingers. She wanted to tell them, "It's okay, guys, it's only my shoulder," but her mouth wouldn't form the words.

Gunshots. Feet crunching on gravel. Squall's voice. Gunshots. Sirens. And then nothing.

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Incredibly sorry about the longer wait. But, hey, it's a longer update. Things balance out. Okay, so review, _por favor_, and I'll get trucking on that next update. Later.

-peridotaurora


	13. Trouble

**Disclaimer**: Yes, I DO own Squaresoft! How 'bout that, huh?. Oh wait, I lied. I actually don't. Sorry.

**Chapter Warnings:** This one's alright. Bit of swearing.

**Chapter Summary**: Rinoa tries to recuperate as Squall suffers a heavy fall from grace.

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_Trouble  
Oh trouble can't you see  
You're eating my heart away  
And there's nothing much left of me._

_Trouble  
Oh trouble can't you see  
You have made me a wreck  
Now won't you leave me in my misery?_

-"Trouble" by Cat Stevens. (A great song, and very appropriate for this story. Basically, if this was a TV show, this song would be the theme song. I really recommend it.)

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**The Force**

**Chapter Thirteen**

****

"Hey, where's Leonhart, anyway?"

"Probably banging his head against a wall."

"But shouldn't he _be_ here?"

"Must be too embarrassed to show his face…"

Rinoa scowled with her eyes still closed. How could she get any sleep if people kept _talking_ so loud? _Funny, the only time I can actually get some sleep is when I get shot…_

"Hey, she's waking up!" a voice she recognized as Zell's exclaimed.

"No thanks to you guys," she said groggily. She tried to sit up in the hospital bed, but she quickly lay back down again as her shoulder prickled with pain. "_Ow_."

"You might not wanna try moving just yet," Seifer interjected. For once, he didn't look smug or malicious. "You had us all freaked out, Heartilly."

"It's just my shoulder," she said, rubbing at her itchy bandages absently.

Seifer shrugged. "We don't get a lot of accidents in this station, so people are gonna go nuts."

"Oh. So, um, did you say Squall was coming? Is he OK?"

Seifer and Zell just glanced at each other and didn't say anything.

"Guys…he _is_ okay, right? Guys?" Rinoa repeated.

"I guess nobody told you," Zell said hesitantly. "Okay, well, when we were sure you were safe and everything, we all went back to the station. Then Quistis came out of her office and just _ripped_ into Squall right then and there. She was seriously _screaming_ at him. Damn, that woman scares the hell outta me," he finished, shuddering slightly.

"Trepe was probably just a _little_ pissed off that Leonhart dragged an aide right into the middle of a combat situation," Seifer said, rolling his eyes. "It's a big no-no," he explained to Rinoa.

"She was talking about firing him," Zell added.

"But she won't," Seifer cut in. "She never will. She'd practically lick his boots if he just got a freakin' _attitude_ adjustment."

"But he's okay?" Rinoa emphasized again.

"Yeah," Seifer finished. The smirk that so often rested on his features was back. "Why so worried?" he asked in a maddeningly knowing voice.

"Hey, it was crazy out there! I don't remember a damn thing!" she cried. She gasped. "Wait! You guys caught them, right? Monroe and the guy who hit us?"

Seifer and Zell glanced at each other again.

"_Are you serious?_ They got away? Oh God…" she groaned, putting her hand over her eyes.

"Squall had us follow them into the woods," Zell said, his voice miserably low. "He really wanted to go after them himself, but he stayed with you until the ambulance came. It was really dark and everything…and we just lost 'em…"

"Still, was that weird or what? Leonhart showing emotion…man, I thought I was dreaming. I should've taken a picture; that stuff's blackmail gold…" Seifer reminisced.

The door to the room suddenly flew open and a very anguished Selphie rocketed in. "_Rin!_" She immediately rushed to Rinoa and enveloped her in a crushing hug.

"Ow-Selphie-ow-shoulder-ow…" Rinoa said, wincing.

"Might wanna ease up there, Selphie," Irvine said, sauntering in casually. "But I gotta admit, Rin, you scared me shitless."

"I think everybody's overreacting," Rinoa said weakly. She grimaced again as Selphie tightened her hug.

Irvine laughed and tried to pry Selphie off. When his efforts proved fruitless, he shrugged and stood back. "So, aside from being mauled by the Fearsome Selphie Beast, how you feeling?"

"I've been better," she said, trying to slowly inch out of Selphie's grip. "Way better."

Irvine nodded. "Well, that's a given."

Selphie finally relinquished her hold on Rinoa and jumped aside. "She had a bit too much coffee today," Irvine explained.

"That explains it," Rinoa said, trying to scratch under her bandage without much success. "But hey," she said, giving up on it. "Being waited on might not be so bad, right?"

"Yeah, a nice little vacation. It comes with, you know, getting shot," Seifer replied.

An ill-tempered nurse bustled in, bearing a tray. "Okay, guys. Too many people in here. Everybody out," she ordered.

They all reluctantly obeyed. Selphie turned around and said, "I'll come back soon, okay?"

"Okay."

The nurse set down the tray in front of Rinoa. "Lunch. Eat up. I'll come back in half an hour." She turned to go.

"Um, could you tell me how long I'm supposed to be in here for?" Rinoa asked.

The nurse turned back around. "We're keeping you in here for the rest of the day, just to make sure nothing funny happens. But you should be outta here by tomorrow morning."

"Oh. Okay," she said, looking down at her plate of wilted vegetables, frightening gelatin, and some unrecognizable meat product.

She sighed. Maybe this _wasn't _going to be that great.

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Squall rubbed his forehead as he bit down hard on a pen. His ears were _still_ ringing from that scorching "talk" from Quistis.

She had marched right into the middle of the station, where everyone was, and started _screaming_ at him. There was no stopping her.

"I never _imagined _this kind of imbecility from you, of all people! We never, _ever_ take investigative aides to live combat situations! What exactly did you think you were doing, _saving the day?_"

_Somebody, make her stop…_

"One little setback, and you shit all over all the rules? What do you think I _taught_ you for? Have you thought for _one second _about what you've done?" It went on and on.

_It wasn't my fault!_ That was Squall had wanted to say. But the truth was inevitable. It _was_ his fault. He just didn't want to face it, because facing it would mean that it was real.

"It was a combat situation! Did your brain _short-circuit_?"

_I didn't know. I didn't fucking know._

So all he could do was stand there like an idiot, while she verbally ripped him limb from limb. People were staring at him and at each other, as if saying, _Boy, Leonhart's really in for it now. _And he couldn't do anything about it. For the first time, Squall Leonhart had nothing to fight back with.

As a result, he was down to his last nerve before noon. He practically jumped a mile when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"_What_?" he said through grit teeth.

"Whoa, easy there." It wasn't Quistis. It was Irvine.

Not that it made things any better, Squall thought sourly.

"Did you not have anything for lunch, or is chowing down on pens a new trend that I don't know about? You've got ink on your lip," Irvine pointed out.

Squall rubbed at his lower lip and saw blue on his finger. "Fucking perfect." He pushed a hand through his hair roughly. "Right. Kinneas. What is it?"

"Nothing really. I see they patched you up," Irvine answered, indicating the bandage on Squall's cut temple.

"Yeah. Look, random chitchat isn't really my thing, Kinneas…"

Irvine laughed. "Yeah, I know. So I'll cut to the chase. You should go see Rinoa. Like, now."

"I'm kind of busy," he lied. Now that he wasn't primary anymore, he didn't have anything to do besides be at Seifer's beck and call.

Irvine looked angry. "Dude, you got the girl shot."

"I realize that, thanks," Squall said acidly. _How many times do I have to apologize?_ Then he realized that he hadn't actually apologized yet.

"Look, I'm just saying," Irvine said, shrugging. "I mean, isn't it the least you could do?"

Squall knew when he was licked. It was _admitting _it that was the problem. As bad as he felt, he knew that he would never bring himself to face the impact of what he did. It was typical Squall, sneaking under the radar to escape the blame.

Irvine shrugged and turned away. As soon as he reached the door, he turned back around and said, "Oh, by the way, her favorite flowers are tiger lilies. _Just_ so you know." He winked and shut the door.

"Real subtle, Kinneas," Squall muttered. He rubbed at his lip again. Irvine didn't have to worry. Squall Leonhart _always_ picked stewing in guilt and misery as opposed to actually facing the consequences of his actions…

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…Or maybe not.

_This is stupid_, Squall thought, looking disdainfully at the garish orange flowers that he had in his hand. _This is really, incredibly stupid._

He got multiple sympathetic and caring looks on the bus to the hospital, as if the sight of a man with flowers was irresistibly sweet. Or maybe they were staring at his blue lip, which he still hadn't managed to get rid of.

_Note to self: never take the bus again._

He thought about the squad car that he had finally totaled. Even though he was getting a new one, he sort of missed the damn thing. He wondered if the air conditioning on his new unit would refuse to function, like the old one. He doubted it.

After the desk clerk had told him that Rinoa Heartilly was in room 121, he trudged down the hall, still holding the bouquet of ugly flowers. What was he supposed to say, anyway? _Sorry for allowing a bullet to enter your shoulder_?

Selphie was hovering over the bed when Squall came in. "She just went to sleep," she said in a hushed voice. She saw the flowers. "Oh. Those are pretty! That's so sweet, Squall!"

"It was _Irvine's_ idea," he reminded her hastily. "Uh, I'm gonna leave these here and…go…" _That was easy_.

"No, wait!" she exclaimed, seizing the flowers and jostling Rinoa. "She told me to wake her up if you came. Hey, Rin, wake up!"

"Selphie, don't wake her up!"

"I have to, she'd kill me if I didn't," Selphie explained, shaking Rinoa again. "Hey, Rin, guess who it is!"

Squall dropped the flowers on the bedside table immediately and stepped back against the wall.

Rinoa rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up. "Okay. Thanks, Selphie," she said sleepily. She yawned and turned to Squall. "Hey."

"Hey."

"Just let me wake up for a second," she said, grinning. "How you doing?"

"Um…shouldn't I be asking _you_ that?"

Selphie decided to leave. _Sexual tension, much_? She smiled behind her hand as she gently closed the door behind her.

Rinoa shrugged. "I don't see why. I'm conscious, aren't I?"

"Hate to tell you this, but being shot means that people are probably going to worry about you," he answered. He gestured to her bandaged shoulder. "So, how is it?"

She shrugged again and winced. "Alright. Six stitches. But hey, it only hurts when I move."

"Oh." They were silent for a few minutes. Rinoa shifted uncomfortably.

"You probably already know this, but part of your lip is _bright_ blue," she said, grinning.

"Yeah. I know."

"I always knew that chewing pens was a bad idea, but I knew that you would never listen to me," she said, shaking her head. "It's not gonna come off anytime soon, is it?"

He snorted. "Probably not. Not unless I decide to rip off a few layers of my skin."

She leaned back and looked at the flowers resting next to her. "These from you?"

"Uh…it was, um, Irvine's idea."

"That's sweet," she murmured. She looked back at him. "So, I heard about Quistis…"

"Yeah."

"…and about Monroe…"

"Yeah," he said, looking down.

She paused. "Well…at least now I can kick their asses in person!" she announced happily.

"That's the spirit."

"By the way…do you know who it was? Who shot me, that is?"

He looked up at the ceiling and tried to remember. "The other guy was too preoccupied with me. I'm pretty sure it was Monroe."

Rinoa sat up straight, glaring. "Argh! That's it, his ass is _mine!_ I'm gonna beat him beyond recognition."

"Don't worry. He's definitely going to be caged for this. So is the other guy."

"Who _was_ the other guy, though?" she wondered aloud.

"The boss," Squall said simply. "I recognized his voice."

Rinoa covered her face with her hands. "God…I'm sorry, Squall. This is all just such a big mess…"

_Why are YOU sorry?_ he wanted to say. Rinoa, who didn't have anything to apologize for, could apologize at the drop of a hat. Squall couldn't even bring himself to apologize for the things that really needed it.

"Heartilly--"

"I'm just so stupid! If I had listened to you, we would've gotten them, and none of this would have happened! Quistis wouldn't have yelled at you, you'd be primary again, and I'd be out of your hair…" she wailed.

"Stop. Just…stop," he commanded, shoving both hands through his hair so that it was significantly tousled; something he did when he was agitated. He needed to think of something to say that would make this all okay again.

He took a deep breath. "Look. I fucked things up big time. I put your life in danger. But the thing is, if you weren't there, I might not even be standing here right now. So…" He finally spat it out. "I owe you one, alright?" Why did apologizing always make him feel like he was trying to rip words out of his throat?

"Okay," she said, shrugging. "I forgive you."

Squall was slightly taken aback. Immediate forgiveness was not what he had been expecting. "Seriously?"

"Well, aren't you sick of everybody giving you hell over all this?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "Um…and you know, if the whole cop thing doesn't work out for you, you should probably go into football."

Rinoa cracked up, an enormous grin on her face. "Oh, leave me alone…"

"I'm serious, that tackle was lethal. I think you partially paralyzed my arm…"

"Oh well. At least I've got options to consider," Rinoa joked. "It's always good to know that I could be a linebacker if I fail my detective's exam."

Squall sighed. He might as well tell her this now. "Um, about the exam…"

"What?"

"Well, Quistis told me to tell you that you have two weeks injury leave. And um…with that, there's a good chance that you're not going to be ready to take the next detective's exam."

"_Whaaat_! No way! I can't be away for _two weeks_! After all the studying I've done?" she cried.

"Look, maybe you can take the next one…"

"Uh-uh. I'm doing this. Tell Quistis that she can forget it." She crossed her arms stubbornly.

He shrugged. "Whatever. Don't blame me if you get…complications and stuff."

"I think I can handle it. Besides, I don't know if you can last two weeks without me," she teased.

"Keep telling yourself that."

"Okay, then I will. And it's kinda hard to take you seriously with that blue lip," she said, giggling. "But Squall?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think it would be okay if…I took the weekend off? And maybe the Monday after?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, since you're technically supposed to take _14_ days off, I _think_ it'll be okay if you take four days off. But that's just me." He turned to go.

"And…Squall?"

"Yeah?"

"Um…well, you said you owed me one, right?"

He stopped. He didn't like the sly smile on her face one bit. "Um…yes. But don't ask me for money. I'm only on a detective's salary, after all…"

"I know. _But_ I've thought of a terrific favor that I can ask of you."

"Go on," he said, reluctantly. The way she was smirking terrified him.

"_Well_, I've decided that you can take me to the Officer's Ball on Thursday," she finished.

Squall was silent for a few seconds. "Real funny, Heartilly…"

"Oh no, I'm dead serious."

His mood shifted from annoyed to panicked in half a second. "Are you kidding me! What kind of painkillers do they have you on, anyway? Because I'm telling them to lower the dosage," he demanded, glancing at her chart at the foot of the bed.

"You are so totally taking me!" Rinoa said, grinning. She was definitely enjoying this.

"No way! _No. Way_. God, what are you _on_?" he exclaimed vehemently.

"It doesn't matter what I'm on, you're still taking me. No ifs, ands, or buts."

"Can't you get it through your skull that I am definitely _not_ taking you?"

She clutched her shoulder melodramatically. "Oh, oh, my _shoulder…_it's in so much _pain…_"

"Oh, you…brat," he fumed.

"Pick me up at seven, Lieutenant," she said, grinning wickedly. "And we can call ourselves even."

He grit his teeth and stalked out without another word. She laughed. She heard him shout from the hall, "I am _only _doing this because I got you shot. We clear, Heartilly?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" she shouted back, saluting with her good arm.

_That was definitely too easy._

_--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Seagulls screeched overhead as Rinoa took off her sunglasses. She glanced at her arm with satisfaction. The second day of her four-day vacation and she was already getting a bit of a tan.

People had been glancing furtively at the six lumpy stitches marring her shoulder, but she ignored it. She wanted to think of things _other_ than the force for a while…

But as she lounged luxuriously on the beach, she found that she couldn't. She couldn't stop thinking about Project Astyanax and how she would quite happily wring Tim Monroe's neck once she got her hands on him. She couldn't stop thinking about possible leads on the case, and possible suspects for the murder.

In other words, she couldn't stop thinking like a cop.

She wanted to laugh. Here she was, on a vacation that she never would've gotten otherwise, and she already wanted to go back. Physically, she was at the beach, but mentally, she was back at the station.

Sick of thinking, she jumped to her feet and sprinted across the sand into the ocean. She shrieked in delight as the icy water hit her like a bag of cement and laughed when some small children looked at her like she was nuts. The salt water stung her shoulder and her eyes, but she merely brushed it off. The last time she had done something like this was when she was five years old, when her father had played with her in the water while her mom had watched, smiling, from the sand.

Sometimes, she could visualize them with her now. Her father's huge hands, grabbing hers and swinging her around. Her mother laughing, telling him to stop it before he dropped her.

And if she thought about it hard enough, she could see him too. Standing away from everyone else with his hands in his pockets. Giving her the "what the hell are you doing, Heartilly?" look that she was so used to. And it was so familiar and comforting that she had to smile.

Rinoa stopped in her tracks, the water dripping off of her. All the people she loved had been with her for one surreal second, and then, just like that, they weren't really there at all.

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Squall flopped down on his bed, a new victim file in his hand. The victim was the one who had been murdered when he had been officially stripped of his position as primary investigator. He had _just_ managed to get the file now, he thought bitterly.

Some people read novels before they went to bed. Squall did this.

Marly Haven. Ten years old, death by suffocation. This time, no note was left at the scene.

_It's like they knew I wasn't even going to be there. _He started chewing on a pen, remembered his already abused lip, and stopped. _They might even give it to me later. _With the Ring, you could never really tell.

He jumped when his phone rang. The last time he had heard his phone ring was…he actually couldn't remember. No one actually _called_ him unless it was a carpet salesman.

"…Hello?" If it was a carpet salesman at this hour, he was going to cut his phone line.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Oh, it's you. Aren't you supposed to be…somewhere, Heartilly?"

"If by 'somewhere' you mean the beach, then yes. I'm just lonely and bored. So, did we get anything new on the case today?"

"Well, I stopped by the church again to check it out. And guess what?"

"What?" she asked.

"Totally abandoned. The computer, the safe…everything's gone. They moved on."

"Lovely," she sighed. "So we're gonna have to track them again, huh?"

"We're not going to be that lucky again. The boss isn't that stupid; he's not gonna call Monroe again, at least not at that number. We'll have to find them some other way."

"Well, that's… incredibly depressing. Anything else?"

"Quistis finally let me see the damn file. Actually, she didn't. She's technically not speaking to me anymore. I harassed Zell for about 15 minutes, then _he_ let me see it."

"What a polite, sweet gentleman you are," she said, laughing. "So what'd the file say?"

"I'm getting there. Ten year old girl, got suffocated in her sleep. And there's nothing there, as usual. Not even a hair."

"Same exact pattern," she said.

"Yeah. I'm interviewing tomorrow."

"Ugh. Glad I'm not there," Rinoa said, smiling.

There was silence from the other end. She heard a faint clicking sound, which she guessed was his finger tapping on something. "Get the ink off yet?"

"No."

"Try baby oil or something," she suggested.

"Because I totally have _that_ lying all over the house…"

"Just an idea. You could probably use turpentine, but I think that'd give you kidney failure."

"I think I'll pass," Squall answered, flipping through Marly Haven's medical records. He yawned.

"You should probably get some sleep. At least you can do that, seeing as you're not primary anymore, right?"

"I guess."

"You're not being very talkative today," she commented.

"Heartilly, it's one in the morning."

"Right. Sorry. But I figured you'd be awake since we get approximately zero sleep nowadays. How's the car, anyway?"

"Car?" His head was already resting on the pillow and his eyes were closed. Her voice seemed very relaxing right now. Or maybe it was because he couldn't remember the last time he had actually slept.

"The one that we sort of…demolished."

"Oh. Um, I think we're getting a new one soon. It's just that Quistis is hell-bent on torturing me, so she's taking as _long_ as possible to issue me a replacement."

"Right. Well, since you sound half-dead and everything, I'll stop bugging you now. Keep me posted, okay?" she said.

"Sure," he said thickly. He hung up the phone, tossed the file on the bedside table, and turned out the light.

_Well, let's see_, he thought dryly. _What kind of horrific nightmares about my childhood am I going to have tonight?_

But instead, his dream was just about Rinoa, biting back tears as the blood ran down her arm.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know why this update took such a short time. I just had some free time, and I couldn't stop writing. But really, this chapter just sets up a nice transition, as opposed to some real development. Don't worry, it'll get interesting next chapter. (In the meantime, I strongly recommend that Cat Stevens song.)

Later,

peridotaurora


	14. Slow Down

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I'm still a struggling high school student, not a Squaresoft mogul.

**Chapter Warnings**: This is where it gets a little racy. But don't worry, I won't go into detail at all, and I will firmly adhere to my "T" rating.

**Chapter Summary:** Rinoa returns and the police officer's ball will change everything in an instant.

* * *

_Well I've been dragged all over the place  
I've taken hits time just don't erase  
And baby I can see you've been fucked with too  
But that don't mean your loving days are through  
'Cause people will say all kinds of things  
But that don't mean a damn to me  
'Cause all I see is what's in front of me  
And that's you_

-"Poor Song" by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs

* * *

**The Force**

**Chapter Fourteen**

"Who is _that_ hot babe?" Selphie cried as soon as Rinoa walked in through the door.

"Oh my God, Selphie…" Rinoa said, covering her eyes in embarrassment and grinning. "Way to shout that so the _whole_ station could hear."

"Sorry. But that's a great tan. I thought you were supposed to be away for two weeks."

"I really couldn't be away for that long," Rinoa explained. "You know, with the exam and all. _But_…I'm not officially back from leave for about an hour. So I've got an hour to kill."

"So you came _here_?" Selphie asked incredulously.

Rinoa shrugged. "What can I say, I missed you guys. And check-out time for the beach house was eleven, so I got here early."

"Cool. So…while you've got time to kill, you wanna come with Zeus and me? We're doing a drug search at some high school. It shouldn't take _too_ long," Selphie said eagerly.

She nodded as they both walked through the grass to the gated enclosures. "Okay. And while you're at it, hook me up with what's been happening around here."

Selphie cooed to the dog as she wrestled the vest over his head. "Morning, sweetie. Ready to bust a bunch of druggie teenagers?" Rinoa laughed.

"Right," Selphie said, standing up. "Now you can't pet him, because he's on duty. He can't be touched now by anyone except me; it's part of his training."

"Got it," Rinoa answered as Zeus sniffed inquisitively at her pant leg.

Selphie pulled him back. "She's clean, Zeus. At least I _hope_ she is," she teased, grinning at Rinoa. "Alright, Zeusie. Car time. Let's go."

As soon as they got Zeus in the crate, Selphie hopped into the driver's seat and slipped on sunglasses.

"How come _you _get the cool car?" Rinoa complained, as she looked around at the inside. "You get _automatic _gear shift?"

"Squall's unit _used_ to be cool. He just banged it around a lot. But yeah, I joined up after they finally started including automatics. But I hear you're getting a new one."

"Eventually. Hey, _your_ A/C works," Rinoa protested.

"Sure does. Hey, you wanted to know what's going on around here, right? Okay. Well, Quistis is still in a horrible mood because Seifer and Zell haven't found anything. I can tell she wants to put Squall back on it, but she's way too proud. Other than that, there's nothing."

"Really?"

"Oh, wait! You're going to the ball, right? Well, Quistis is letting me organize it!" Selphie was practically bouncing in her seat. Rinoa grimaced as the car eagerly zigzagged in the lane. "I've been asking her _forever_ and she finally said yes! It's gonna be rad, you'll see."

"Sounds great," Rinoa said hurriedly, in an effort to stop the reckless driving.

"It _is_ gonna be great!" she said, as she stopped in front of a medium-sized brick building. Brass letters spelling "BALAMB HIGH SCHOOL" were nailed onto the front.

Selphie kept yammering on as they strolled through the labyrinthine halls of the school. Zeus sniffed left and right, searching for a discreet whiff of narcotics or tobacco.

"These drug searches are a laugh sometimes. I did this one where some idiot kid had dog biscuits in his locker, and Zeus went _nuts_. I thought the kid was storing up dope, but I get the locker opened and there was just a box of dog treats. I almost wet myself," she reminisced fondly. "But then Quistis got mad at me for not training the dog right."

"Hey, it's a dog. That's what dogs do."

"But that's just it. He's not _just_ a dog. He's a K9 unit, one of the elite. He's not _allowed_ to just be a dog," exclaimed Selphie. She had a small frown on her face. "It's too damn bad, but we have to do this somehow."

They didn't find anything except for a small plastic bag half-full of suspicious-looking white powder. Selphie promptly confiscated it and took care of the disciplinary issues.

"I gotta say, for this school, that's pretty tame," Selphie muttered as the pair walked out into the afternoon sunshine.

"Huh?"

Selphie smiled. "Believe me, this is where I graduated. I was actually one year behind Squall and Seifer."

"Seriously? What were they like?" Rinoa, having gone to a private school in Timber, felt slightly jealous.

"Oh, Seifer was a right little sneak. The teachers practically lived out of his pocket; none of them could control him," Selphie replied, gesturing grandly. Rinoa silently begged her to put her hands back on the wheel. "And Squall…basically like he is now. I actually almost never saw him. He pretty much just blended in."

Rinoa nodded. She understood why, for Squall, high school wouldn't have been anything more than miserable. "Speaking of Squall, I should probably catch up with him. You know where he is?"

Selphie shrugged. "Last I heard, he was at the morgue. I'll swing by there seeing as you don't really have a unit anymore."

* * *

Eveann Kadowaki gave Squall a slightly strangled look of pity as he entered. "I heard about everything," she said. 

"Okay." He didn't bother to ask who she had heard it from. For all he knew, Seifer probably told her.

She peeled off her blood-stained gloves and scrubbed her hands in the aluminum sink. "The higher you are, the harder you fall. How's Rinoa?"

"Fine. She was pretty lucky. She only had to get stitches."

"That's good to hear, I suppose. Er, what happened to your lip?" she asked.

"Don't ask," he said irritably. The peacock blue ink had faded so it was a light maroon.

"So let me guess. You're here to bully me until I give you classified information that's reserved solely for the primary investigator. Am I right?" she asked.

"Hey, that was easy. So, you going to do it or not?" he said, cocking an eyebrow.

She scowled at him. "You know how much trouble I'd be in if I did that?"

"It'd be minor. Nothing like what I'd do to the system if you don't hand it over."

Eveann laughed. "Where'd you learn to threaten like that?"

"You obviously don't hang around too many criminals. Are you going to cooperate or not?" he asked impatiently.

She sighed. "I'm sorry, I really can't do that. You're going to have to get it from Seifer."

_Over my dead body_. "Can you at least show me the damn body so I can make my own conclusions?" he demanded.

"Fine. I can do that, at least. You know, it can't be healthy to be that stubborn."

Ten minutes later, Squall was examining Marly Haven's corpse with his rubber-gloved hands. Marly's long, curly brown hair spilled over the edge of the examination table.

"Jesus! I can _never _get used to this!" Rinoa stood in the doorway, flinching at both the sight and smells.

"Oh, it's you."

"Yeah. Eveann let me in. So, when'd you become a medical examiner?" she teased.

"Ever since Kadowaki refused to accommodate me," he answered, pulling back Marly's eyelids and examining her cloudy gray irises.

"Damn her and her dedication to the rules!" she joked. "So, what do we have?"

"Quick and dirty suffocation. She's got some broken fingernails; which makes me think that she fought. Other than that, I'm not really doing that great." He cast a sidelong glance at his aide. The light brown streaks in her hair had lightened, he noticed, and she'd gotten considerably tanner.

"Hey, how'd you get here, anyway? Did we get a car?" she asked hopefully.

"Nope. Took the bus." He wrinkled his nose slightly.

"Ugh. I think some bribery's called for here," she suggested. "Definitely. So, looks like the ink's pretty much gone. Now it just looks like you got punched."

"That was totally the look I was going for."

She smiled. "You know, you could be pretty funny if you stopped threatening people and the like."

"Hey, I do what I have to. Wanna take a look?" he said, indicating Marly's body.

"Erm…no. You go ahead."

Squall tossed the dirty gloves in a metal trashcan, where they made a soft _thunk_ as they hit the bottom. "I interviewed the parents this morning. They were apparently asleep when their daughter got offed. Guy got in through a basement window. You'd think people would invest in impenetrable glass by now."

"People always think that it'll never happen to them. You know, they're like, 'It can't happen to me.' That's their biggest mistake," Rinoa added.

"If people didn't make mistakes, we wouldn't be in the job. Come on. Let's go experience the horrors of public transportation."

* * *

"Leonhart, Heartilly. In my office," Quistis ordered. Without waiting for an answer, she turned away. 

Rinoa froze. "Oh damn. What do you think she wants?" Squall shook his head without saying anything.

As soon as Squall and Rinoa filed reluctantly into Quistis's office like two guilty kids trudging into the principal's office, Quistis rose and extended a hand for Rinoa to shake.

"Um," Rinoa said, taking Quistis's hand and shaking it. "Hi, Chief."

Squall bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smirking.

"I'd personally like to extend my congratulations to you, Officer Heartilly." Surprisingly, Quistis had a tiny smile on her face.

"That's really nice, but what for?"

Quistis perched herself on her desk, crossing her legs. "You've been recommended as a prime candidate for the BPD Medal of Honor. After evaluating those claims, I've decided to have it conferred on you as soon as you make detective."

Rinoa goggled at her. The Medal of Honor was the highest-ranking police medal there was.

"For heroic bravery," Quistis recited. "Performed in the line of duty at high risk of death."

"Okay," Rinoa said weakly. "Um…who did you say recommended me?"

Quistis's smile got a little wider. "Lieutenant Leonhart felt that you wholly deserved the honors."

Squall narrowed his eyes. _You were NOT supposed to say that…_

Rinoa tried and failed to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor.

"Again, congratulations. Dismissed."

As soon as they were in the clear, Rinoa started laughing. "God! I thought we were in trouble or something!" She stopped laughing and looked curiously at Squall. "You _knew_, didn't you? You knew what she wanted."

"Uh huh."

"Jerk. You saw how terrified I was and you didn't bother to ease my suffering." She waited until her heart rate slowed back down and continued. "Was she telling the truth?"

"About what?"

"You know…about you. And the whole recommendation thing," she said, nudging him.

Squall's tongue made a lump in his cheek. "Pretty much."

"Really?" she squeaked. Then she hugged him, hard.

He tensed up immediately, horror-stricken. "Heartilly. Get off. Now," he instructed quietly.

"Thank you!"

"Seriously. Get off me. I'm really not in the mood for physical violence right now."

"Not until you say 'you're welcome,'" she said.

"You're welcome. Get the hell off me."

She immediately released him from her grip. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" she said, smiling deviously.

"Jesus, Heartilly, not in public."

"Eh, nobody's watching. Besides, I'm getting a medal. I should celebrate!" Despite all her efforts, she couldn't resist having a bounce in her step.

"Right. And I'll go do, you know, the work-related stuff," he replied dryly.

She scowled at him. "Aw, come on, you know I'm messing around. What's up next?"

"I'm going back to the scene. I don't care if you come."

"Oh, you know you do."

"Yeah, whatever."

* * *

"You've found Marly's killer?" a very hopeful David Haven asked. "You've found him?" 

"No, Mr. Haven. I'm here to do a follow-up inspection of the scene," Squall said shortly.

"Oh," Mr. Haven said flatly, visibly deflating. "But where's Lieutenant Almasy?"

"I'm Lieutenant Leonhart, and this is Officer Heartilly. We're also assigned to your case."

"Good, good," Mr. Haven affirmed, nodding enthusiastically. "So, it'll just be Marly's room, then? Go up the stairs, and it's the first room on the right."

Marly Haven's bedroom turned out to be a poignant reflection of what age she was. Posters featuring sugary boy bands were plastered all over the rosy pink walls. Stuffed animals were perched on the very end of the bed, as if she was trying to show that she was too old for them, but secretly holding them close at night.

In a way, thought Rinoa, murder scenes can be more depressing than the actual body.

"What was the murder weapon?" she asked Squall.

"The pillow. Fujin's still working on it, but she's not going to find anything, if the guy stayed true to pattern," Squall answered. "But we have to eliminate it."

"The guy's got major stones. He just took the pillow out from under her and smothered her with it?"

"Seems like it. They don't really go for subtlety."

"Guess not. So what else do we know?"

Squall brushed some hair out of his eyes. It was getting pretty out of hand, he noticed. He made a mental note to consider getting it cut. "Not much. Seifer hasn't found the good in his heart to let us know any details yet," he replied sardonically.

"Man, this blows. What are we supposed to do, then, warm the bench?" she whined.

"Basically. It's either that or beg and plead for Seifer to give us stuff. And you can forget it," he told her, when she started getting a hopeful look on her face.

She frowned. "Men. Why are you always so stubborn?" she huffed.

"You do know that he's getting a huge kick out of this, right? Dangling this right in front of my face?"

"That's not true. He wouldn't do that," Rinoa protested.

"This _is_ Seifer we're talking about."

"Still. That seems immature to the extreme," she pointed out.

"I rest my case."

"You and your grudges. So, now what?" Rinoa asked. "I mean, what are we going to do if we don't have the info?"

"I'll let you know when I figure it out," he muttered. He wasn't used to this: standing on the sidelines and being completely useless. "Still boning up for the exam?"

"Well, not _lately_…"

"It's not too far away," he reprimanded.

"Hey, I was on vacation, in case you don't remember," she said hotly.

"Whatever. You're off duty until further notice."

"Seriously? Awesome. I think this has to be a record: the first time I've been relieved before midnight." She couldn't resist doing a little happy dance on her way out. "Oh, and don't forget to pick me up at seven on Thursday," she reminded him before whipping out of sight. He thought he heard her snicker quietly.

He swore quietly. Amidst all of this, he had forgotten.

* * *

"Where's the other centerpiece? There were _seven centerpieces_ here, and now there's only six. _Where's my other centerpiece_?" 

A very harried Selphie was zipping around the ballroom like a maniac, in search of a missing decoration. "It starts in _half an hour_ and I can't find the damn centerpiece!"

Irvine let out a low whistle as he watched her calmly. "Might wanna ease up on the micromanaging, Selph," he commented mildly.

"Shut up," she snarled. "What are you even doing here, anyway?"

"Oh, but nothing's sexier than a housewife on speed."

She almost spat out a reply, but decided that the energy could be better used to find the missing centerpiece.

Irvine leaned lazily against the wall, tugging at his tie. "Relax, everybody's gonna be late, anyway. No one's gonna come at seven-thirty _on the dot_." He saw a tiny bit of a candle tucked under a tablecloth. It was part of Selphie's lost centerpiece. "Uh, Selph…"

"Leave me alone, Irvine!"

"Um, centerpiece…forget it," he said under his breath. He'd let her sweat it out, get it out of her system.

She sweated it out until Quistis arrived at precisely seven-thirty.

Irvine figured that being fashionably late wasn't the top concern of the Balamb Chief of Police.

"Officer Tilmitt," she said by way of greeting. She took a quick glance at her surroundings. "Excellent work."

Selphie suddenly stood stick straight, blushing. "Thanks, Chief."

Despite all of the micromanaging, Irvine had to silently agree with Quistis: Selphie _had_ done a great job of decorating the gigantic ballroom. Crystal and marble sparkled at every corner. Candles gave the room a dramatic lighting. But the clincher was probably the enormous crystal chandelier that dangled from the center of the ceiling. Irvine resisted the temptation to ask how much the department had paid for this.

Quistis nodded and ambled off to the restroom. Her hair had been set into soft curls and swept into an updo. She was clad in an uncharacteristic siren red dress. Selphie, dressed in mint green, felt completely drab in comparison.

"Damn," Irvine murmured. "The Chief is looking _hot_."

Selphie gave him a dirty look and said nothing. The ballroom was steadily starting to fill up. Quistis was already schmoozing the big shots.

Half an hour later, Zell appeared, with the brunette desk sergeant on his arm. He nodded at Irvine and Selphie and strode over.

"Hey, Zell. What's--_hey_!" Selphie cried, finally finding her missing centerpiece. "It was here all along! Why didn't anyone _tell_ me?" she exclaimed, stamping her little foot.

"Must've slipped my mind," Irvine murmured, raising an eyebrow at Zell. "See the Chief yet?"

But before they had the chance to ogle the Chief, Selphie nudged the both of them and whispered, "_Look_!"

They weren't looking at Rinoa, who sashayed into the ballroom in a champagne-colored slip and toothpick heels.

Instead, they gawked at the man who followed her. He had the ghost of a scowl on his face, and his eyes had that usual bored glaze to them. But the fact that he was actually physically _here_ was what made them stare.

"What do you think he's doing here?" Zell whispered. "He _never_ comes to these things."

"Oh God, he's wearing a suit. He must've lost a bet. Or Rinoa's bribing him. _Something_," Irvine said incredulously.

"Or maybe he just _likes_ her," Selphie pointed out. "Maybe it's a date."

Zell and Irvine changed their tone immediately.

"Oh yeah," Irvine said. "He's totally doing her."

Selphie glared at him and smacked him on the arm. "Get your mind out of the gutter," she demanded.

Irvine rubbed his arm absently as Zell continued to stare at the pair. "I dunno," Zell remarked. "He seems pretty miserable for this to be a date. Oh, shit," he exclaimed, ducking behind a table. "I think he saw me looking."

Irvine laughed and dragged him up by the back of the collar. "Get up, you freak."

Zell was about to get up when he saw Seifer across the room. He ducked again. "Damn it, it's Lieutenant Asshole. That's it, I'm not coming out," he said, only half-joking.

Meanwhile, Rinoa had fetched a flute of champagne for her taciturn companion. When he balked, she pressed it into his hand. "You're not on duty, Squall. Do it as a favor to me, hm?"

Squall took a sip and resisted the urge to shudder. He rarely ever drank, even when he _was_ off duty. He hated the idea of a substance taking over his mind.

Still, he thought as he took another swallow, he would probably need this to get through the night.

"I still can't believe you're making me do this, Heartilly," he said sourly. His tie was already starting to feel like some kind of silk noose.

"Rinoa," she said firmly. "We're on a date, you call me by my first name."

"This is _not_ a date," he said immediately. Rinoa. It sounded strange to him. He always just called her Heartilly. _Rinoa_.

It would definitely take some getting used to.

"Whatever. I still can't believe you're making me do this," he said again.

"I know, I'm such a bitch," Rinoa growled in a terrible imitation of Squall. She grabbed his wrist. "Come on, I'm hungry."

Squall glanced at her feet and vaguely wondered how she could walk like that in such ridiculous shoes. He leaned down and itched at his ankle holster. These stupid pants he was wearing kept tickling it.

She stopped and sighed. "You brought your gun?"

"I only brought one," he said defensively. "The other ones made a lump in my jacket."

She shook her head, but she was grinning. "You're gonna get us thrown out."

Squall shrugged. It wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing, in his opinion.

Unfortunately, Quistis had finally spotted him at last. "Well. This is a surprise," she said grimly. He just grunted in response.

"Oh, but you have to meet everyone. They've been dying to see you for nine years," she said, a trace of a diabolical smile on her lips. She turned and went to fetch a whole army of boring businessmen and politicians.

Squall bared his teeth. "Shit. I _knew_ I shouldn't have come."

"Oh, it can't be _that_ bad," Rinoa assured.

She turned out to be wrong. Squall didn't even bother to hide his horror as countless senators, representatives, and congressmen of Balamb gathered around to shake his hand and tell him that his work was generally appreciated around their fair city.

Rinoa stood back and watched him, a faint, sympathetic smile on her face. At one point, he turned to her and mouthed, "Save me."

"God," he said in disgust when it was over. To her surprise, he grabbed another champagne glass and tossed the drink into his mouth. "She did that just to piss me off, I know it."

"You did good," she said, thumping him on the back. "But maybe we should lay low for a while before more of 'em come. There's a table."

They sat down at a table in the corner, where they could just watch it all go by. Squall rubbed at his forehead, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. He looked miserable. "I should be getting those test results on the pillow," he muttered.

"Squall. You do know that Fujin's here too, right?" Rinoa answered, motioning to the forensic scientist, who was dressed in stark black. "And can we _please_ talk about something that's _not_ the force, that's _not_ murder, and that's _not_ the Ring of Truth?" she said exasperatedly.

He was silent, and for a second, she thought he wasn't going to answer her. She sighed.

But then he spoke. "Did you know that Quistis has a fan club?" A smile was tugging at his lips.

She grinned back. Maybe, just maybe, this could be easy.

* * *

"Cool! Baby hotdogs! It's about time." 

Selphie cringed as Zell attacked the snack table. "Zell! Those are cocktail weenies. You're not supposed to eat them like that!"

She heard something sounding vaguely like a "screw that" from Zell as he continued to shove them in his mouth. She groaned and stomped away before she could be held responsible for Zell's misbehavior.

Irvine clamped his arm around her. "Don't worry, babe. It's a helluva party."

"I tried, I really did," she murmured.

"I know. And didn't Quistis tell you how rad it was? You know, I think you need a drink."

"I could go for that," Selphie agreed, and there was a glass in her hand as soon as she said it.

Seifer had managed to coax Quistis out onto the dance floor with him, and for a minute, their chief looked feminine and even happy. Irvine swore that he saw her giggle.

"Must be something in the water," he muttered to himself. And then he grinned. If there _was _something in the water, then he could probably use it to his advantage.

Rinoa laughed as Irvine dragged a pouting Selphie onto the dance floor. "Aw, that's sweet. They're so cute together." Squall just raised an eyebrow at her.

"Hey, Squall, let's dance!"

"No," he answered flatly.

"Oh, come on, you brought me here. We can at least have some fun," she protested.

"I don't know how," he lied.

"Don't know how to do what? To have fun? No offense, Squall, but I already knew that," she teased. He gave her a dirty look. She sighed and said, "Fine." She would wait for him to let his guard down.

When he had significantly relaxed, she grabbed him by the hand and yanked him towards the dance floor.

"Hey!" he said, trying in vain to pull back. Where did she get so damn strong? She grinned and winked at him, and he couldn't be completely angry with her.

"I'll teach you how," she said.

* * *

_It's winter, and the radiator's going on at full blast. Ellone is fretting about her first middle-school dance. There will be boys there, and she doesn't want to make a fool of herself in front of them, especially not Airin Parr, her crush of the moment._

_She confides her fear to her mother. "Mom, can you teach me how to dance? Please?"_

_Raine smiles at her desperate daughter and decides to indulge her. "I'll teach you the way my mother taught me."_

_She calls Laguna and Squall into the living room and puts on an old record. It's some sweet-voiced piano player, and it makes Laguna smile in remembrance. _

_Raine positions her children, putting Squall's hand on Ellone's waist and linking their free hands. Both of them are obviously repulsed at having to dance with each other. The fact that Ellone is a head taller than her little brother makes the stance slightly awkward._

_Raine instructs them in the steps. "One, two, three," she says again and again as the children revolve slowly in one spot. Ellone is delighted that she's finally learning it, but Squall still has a pout on his face._

_"Why do I have to doooo this?" he whines. "This is for girls."_

_"Not true, junior," Laguna chimes in. "Ladies love a good dancer." He cuffs his son affectionately on the shoulder. "Take it from someone who knows, eh?"_

_Raine raises her eyebrows at him. He grins at her. She knows he's kidding for the boy's sake._

_Squall accidentally steps on Ellone's foot. She winces but shrugs it off. She knows that her brother's out of his element, and she understands. It's the part that Squall likes best about her._

_Raine makes hot chocolate as Laguna laughs at his children, dancing in the middle of the rug even after the record stops.

* * *

_

"Squall?" Rinoa said again. He was somewhere else, she knew. Even though he was right here, dancing with her, he was miles away.

Her voice jerked him out of his memory of a lazy winter afternoon. "Huh?"

"You're a liar. You _do_ know how to dance," she said, laughing.

He realized that he had accidentally been dancing right all along, forgetting that he had planned to screw up on purpose. "Oh. Right."

"So, you just _suddenly_ remembered?"

"Something like that, yeah," he said distractedly. It occurred to her that he looked disoriented, maybe even a little sad.

"Hey, you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah." She had freckles that weren't there before, he noticed. They were sprinkled along the bridge of her nose. She must've gotten them in the sun. They made her look even younger. Squall stopped himself from staring like an idiot at them.

They were getting stares now, from people that hadn't seen Squall Leonhart in _public_, let alone with a woman. Embarrassment was gnawing at his stomach.

Rinoa was very careful not to step on his feet. The shoes she was wearing were potentially fatal, she knew. Not to mention that they were _killing_ her.

"So, where'd you get the suit?" she asked, tugging at a lapel.

"Something I had lying around. The dress?"

"Something I had lying around," she said, smiling. Her hair was down, and she was wearing a silk scarf around her shoulders to hide her injury. In truth, she had bought the champagne-hued number at an upscale boutique for a ghastly amount of money. The shoes had come from the same store, and she was mentally kicking herself for buying them.

When the song ended, they both got another glass of champagne. Squall would hate himself later for it, he knew, but it didn't seem to matter right now, as he was more than a little drunk.

"Hey," Rinoa said suddenly, after she had downed her drink. "You wanna go?"

Squall nodded gratefully and set his empty glass aside.

"I wanna show you something at my house," she said, getting out the money for the cab fare.

They took a taxi to Rinoa's house, and the cabbie seemed none too skilled with his vehicle.

"Ugh," Rinoa said after she stumbled out of the car. "I'm never taking public transportation again. If Quistis doesn't get us a car by tomorrow, I'm cracking skulls."

To her surprise, Squall laughed. A genuine laugh, not a contemptuous one. Well, he _did_ have a lot to drink, she supposed.

As soon as they were in her house, Rinoa kicked off her shoes and sighed. "Damn shoes."

"I was wondering when you were gonna do that," Squall mused. "Seeing as it looked like you were walking on stilts." He immediately started loosening his tie.

She headed straight to the kitchen and started peeking into the refrigerator. "You hungry? I could use some real food."

"It's what, midnight?" he said, glancing at the clock.

"Yeah, and I'm not supposed to be eating carbs after seven, but oh well. I'm starving."

"I thought you were on the Cop Diet."

Rinoa nodded. "Yup. Which is why I'm making pasta. Leftover pasta, but it's still pasta."

She giggled in a tipsy way as she set the microwave. "Did you see Zell and those cocktail weenies? Ha ha ha!"

She motioned to another part of the kitchen. "Coffeemaker's over there, if you wanna make some."

Coffee would be good for getting sober, he thought dully.

The hum of the microwave coincided with the dripping of the coffeemaker as they both leaned against the counter and waited.

"So that wasn't _too _bad, was it?" she wanted to know. "The party?"

He shrugged. "I guess not. But don't get any ideas."

She grinned impishly. "I'll get ideas if I want, thanks. But seriously, it could've been worse. We talked, didn't we?"

She offered him some steaming pasta as soon as it came out of the microwave. He ate an apple from the fruit bowl instead. It was a bit too sweet for his liking, but it'd do for now.

She frowned after she ate the first forkful of pasta. "Pasta and coffee…weird combination," she murmured. She ate it anyway because her stomach was threatening to roar like a lion.

"So," Squall said after they had both finished eating. "What was it that you wanted to show me, anyway?"

"The balcony outside of my room. Come on," she said, leading him upstairs. "My room's a bit messy at the moment, though."

Her bed was unmade, and there were books piled on the floor. "I'll get to picking it up eventually," she explained as she stepped over them. She yanked open the screen door and stepped out onto the balcony.

Dazzling lights from Balamb's skyline winked in the dark. The train looked like a tiny red millipede as it wound around the tracks. Cars that looked like colorful ants zoomed around the town.

"Cool, huh?" Rinoa said.

"I can see my house from here," he remarked, squinting.

"Yeah," she said, dragging two deck chairs closer to them. She sat in one. "I come out here when I'm stressed out. You know, when I'm out here, everything just sorta slows down for a while. Things don't seem as urgent. Ever feel like that?"

"Not really," he answered truthfully, sitting down next to her.

"Thought so. But it's nice. You should try it sometime."

He leaned back and craned his neck to look at the sky. Occasionally, a shooting star would streak across the night canopy and disappear.

"I bought this house for the view," Rinoa said. Her eyes were half-closed. "The general hated it, but…it's my life, right? My house."

"The general?"

"My father."

"You and your dad don't get along," he observed. It was more of a statement than a question.

"No," she said calmly. "No, we don't."

"Why?"

She rolled on her side to look at him. "Probably because of my mom. She died when I was a kid. He loved her…outrageously."

She shifted. "I dunno, he just wasn't the same after that."

"I didn't know," Squall said, by way of apology.

"I know," she said comfortingly. "It's okay."

His slate-blue eyes caught the porch lights, and the result was dazzling. "I want to hear more about _your_ family," she said quietly.

He was silent and then she felt like an idiot. How drunk _was_ she? Did she really just ask _Squall Leonhart_ about his massacred family?

"I'm really sorry," she blurted out immediately afterwards. "I'm kinda out of it."

He didn't say anything for another minute, then surprised her by answering. "I don't remember much except what they looked like," he said, rubbing the side of his face. "I fucking hate that I can't remember."

He was lying, they both knew it. But insisting that he didn't remember was better than continuously digging up painful memories, right? Rinoa didn't ask; she thought she was pushing her luck already.

"It was a long time ago," she reminded him gently.

"I should still remember at least some of it," he said bitterly.

They were quiet for a while. The crickets and cicadas were starting to chirp and hum.

"I remember the foster homes, though," he said suddenly. "Lots of foster homes. I can't even remember them all. I just remember little things about each of them. One had a baby that never shut up. One smelled like bologna. One with a guy that would get crazy when he drank. That kind of thing." That was an especially vivid memory. What was his name again? Jacob Something-Or-Other. Chasing his failures away with a swallow of vodka, then chasing after the scrawny little foster kid. When the social worker saw the bruises, it was straight to another foster home.

It was a vicious cycle. Kid moves in; guardian beats, touches, or ignores him; social worker whisks kid away before he can say "trauma."

His heart felt so heavy that he thought it would drop to his feet at any moment. Why, oh why, was he getting into all this?

A couple of tears were tracking down Rinoa's cheek. "What's the matter?" he asked.

She brushed them off with the back of her hand. "It makes me sad because it makes you sad. You matter to me," she answered, half-smiling. "Even though you don't want to."

_Maybe I do want to_.

But Squall had never mattered to anybody since he was eight years old. He wasn't even sure that he knew _how _to matter. He had gone to six high schools, never staying in one place long enough to really make an impression on anybody.

But for a moment, he really, really wanted to matter.

She laced her fingers with his, and fully expected him to pull away from her. But he never did. She tried to imagine the look on people's faces if they saw this: the unfriendly detective and his upbeat aide holding hands.

What a pair they made.

"You're a survivor," she said quietly. "I guess I never really knew just how tough you are."

_Tough or cowardly_? he wanted to ask. He did the only thing he could think of: he shrugged.

He was just about to say goodbye when she pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. She smelled like soap and some other kind of feminine toiletry. When was the last time someone had touched him out of affection? Then he remembered: it was the night before it all happened. When his mother kissed his forehead and told him, "Don't forget to set your alarm, I don't want you oversleeping again." The last thing that she had ever said to him.

Rinoa almost laughed out loud when he kissed her back. The taste of champagne and apples lingered on his lips, and it was a little distracting. She could only think of how wonderfully weird this was. He cared. He really cared.

His thoughts ran out like a police report. _At this moment, my aide's tongue is in my mouth. I am shamelessly drunk. This is probably not allowed. No, this is definitely not allowed._

But for the moment, it didn't seem to matter. Each kiss was like a tranquilizer, erasing every one of his thoughts, wiping his mind blissfully blank. There wasn't anything to care about, no pain to suppress.

For once, nothing needed an explanation.

He was sweetly chaste, his fingers buried in her hair. She slid her lips down to his neck, where she felt the light thump of his pulse. The way they handled each other was delicate, as if they were both made of glass, and were achingly careful to not hurt one another. Neither of them needed to hurt anymore.

She was comfort, she was bliss. Kissing Rinoa Heartilly was like running down a hill at full speed with a kite string in his hands, or like a cup of coffee after a night of no sleep.

The weirdest part of the night wasn't when they stumbled back into her room, still attached by the lips. It wasn't when the dress fell in a beige heap around her feet. It wasn't when her legs latched around his hips. It wasn't even when she said that she loved him, even though that was certainly a kick in the head.

No, the weirdest part of the night was when Squall wanted everything that she gave him, took it, and gave it all back.

* * *

Hm…okay. Started off a little slow there, but I'm good with how it turned out at the end. Stay tuned for another update. 'Til next time! 

-peridotaurora


	15. Don't You Forget About Me

**Disclaimer**: (Insert witty comment about me not owning Squaresoft here)

**Chapter Warnings**: Swearing. Sensuality. Nothing too severe.

**Chapter Summary**: Consequence wreaks havoc with Squall and Rinoa, and the case takes a new turn.

* * *

_Tell me your troubles and doubts__  
__Giving me everything inside and out and_  
_Love's strange, so real in the dark_  
_Think of the tender things that we were working on_

-"Don't You Forget About Me," by Simple Minds

* * *

**The Force**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Squall jerked awake when he felt something licking his hand. When he rolled over to find the cause of the disturbance, he was face to face with a wet snout, gleaming dark eyes, and wicked dog breath.

"Where did _you_ come from?" Squall whispered, half to himself. The dog just panted in response. Then it hit him: he didn't know where he was. He was in an unfamiliar bed, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.

When he rolled over and saw a mess of long black hair on the pillow next to him, he immediately felt like something was tying his stomach into a knot. _Not good…_

Then he glanced under the unfamiliar covers and saw what he _wasn't_ wearing, and began to panic.

_Okay. Little to no memory of last night…not good. Awful hangover…not good._

_Most likely slept with Rinoa…beyond the beyonds._

This was bad. This was worse than bad. Rinoa was his _aide._ And aides were off limits. Squall, who had never broken protocol in nine years, had now broken the rule that could get him fired.

He caught a glance of himself of the vanity mirror across the room and nearly cringed. Tousled hair, slightly swollen lips, and something that looked suspiciously like a lovebite blossoming on his neck. _Perfect._

Squall pinched the bridge of his nose to stave off the piercing headache and to think. _There's got to be some clean way of doing this…_

Rinoa rolled over and wrapped her arm around him, burying her face in his neck. "Hi," she whispered, a dreamy half-smile on her face.

No. No, there was definitely no clean way to do this.

"Er…hey."

"Whassamatter?" she said sleepily, nuzzling him.

_She _obviously wasn't worried. He just shook his head emphatically and tried to inch away as slowly as possible.

Rinoa put her hands behind her head, as if she was relaxing on some sort of tropical vacation. "That was nice."

"What?"

"Last night. It was nice."

It was all starting to come back to him slowly. The kisses, the whispers. _Shit…_

He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from shouting, "_Do you have any idea how fucked we are!" _Instead, he just smiled weakly and motioned to the dog at the side of the bed. "This your dog?" It was a stupid question, but it was significantly less awkward than some of the _other_ questions he had in mind.

She nodded and outstretched a hand to the dog. "Go downstairs, Angelo, this is probably a little traumatizing for you," she joked. She chuckled and looked back at Squall as the dog trotted obediently out of the room. He looked striking, wearing nothing but a silver chain around his neck and looking peculiarly interested in the fingernails of his left hand. "You know, you talk in your sleep," she teased him.

"I do?" he asked, somewhat amused.

She brushed the hair out of his eyes, an affectionate gesture that weirded Squall out. "It was only once during the night, and it was really quiet," she said.

"What'd I say?"

She hesitated for a while. It had been in the early morning, when they were wound around each other. She had been half-asleep when Squall had whispered _help me _in his sleep. His mouth had been slightly twisted in his sleep, as if he was in pain. It had been bone-chilling.

"Um…you just said 'help.' That was all," she said.

"Oh."

"Do you have nightmares a lot?" she asked him

He shrugged. "I don't really remember them in the morning. But I guess everybody has them, right?" He was lying again; she was getting good at being able to tell when he was lying.

She sighed. "Yeah." Deep down, Rinoa knew that she had to tell him. She had to tell him everything now. Maybe if _she_ stopped lying, he would stop lying…

Or maybe this would just get a whole load off her conscience.

"Squall…I have to tell you something."

"Okay." He was still a little unsettled by the whole talking-in-his-sleep thing.

"You know when MacGill spilled the beans about your family at the bar?" she began, winding a strand of hair around her finger nervously.

"What about it?"

The strand of hair broke off. She took another deep breath. "That wasn't the first time I found out about it," she said finally. Saying it was like trying to swallow a mouthful of rocks.

Squall just raised an eyebrow at her. "What are you talking about?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. _God…he's gonna make me go all the way with this_. "I…I looked at your BPD file. And I asked Thetis Doyle about it." She screwed her eyes shut. "And…I looked in the folder. The folder that we found at the church."

Squall's face just went blank. It was as if someone had unplugged the power source for Squall's emotions. If what he was hearing made him furious, he gave away no sign.

"And I'm sorry," Rinoa whimpered. She was crying at this point. "I couldn't help myself. I'm so, so sorry." She looked at her hands, sniffling. "I just thought I should put it out there because of…this," she said, motioning to the tangled sheets.

There was an excruciating silence. Squall's head swam with thoughts.

_Forgive her._

_She had no right. Crossed the line…_

_She loves you._

_No right._

He flung the duvet off of him and stood up. "I have to go," he said, his voice flat and empty. He began the search for his scattered clothes.

"Oh, no, no! Squall, please, I'm _sorry_. Don't go. Please," Rinoa begged, fresh tears coursing down her face.

"I have to go," he said again. His clothes had somehow ended up on the other side of the room. He hopped around the room as he looked for his shirt while simultaneously struggling to pull his pants on.

"Don't do this. Squall, wait!" she cried, hopping up from the bed with the sheet wrapped around her. She grabbed his wrist as he scrambled into his remaining clothes.

He gently pried her hand off of him and headed towards the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob and looked back at Rinoa.

She was on her knees with the sheet still covering her, crying quietly on the floor. "Please stay," she said one more time. "I love you." The _I love you_ was almost like an afterthought, thrown out into the field by last-ditch desperation

There was a lump the size of an egg in his throat and a coppery taste in his mouth. He wanted to say that he was sorry, but the words didn't seem to be a part of his vocabulary at the moment.

Instead, he said, "Check in at ten, okay?" Then he left.

He could still hear her sobbing as he ran down the stairs. Even the dog seemed to be angry at him, and was kind enough to try and bite him on the way out.

_How do you know? _Squall asked silently. _How do you know how she feels?_

He stopped and took a deep breath once he was out of the house. He had managed to button his shirt wrong in his mad dash to get out of the house. Squall swore under his breath and redid it

He walked down the sidewalk, waiting for the shuddery feeling in his stomach to pass. But already, he wished that he was back in Rinoa's room, where he mattered.

* * *

She lost track of time after he left. She just curled up in her bed, under the blanket, and waited for it to stop hurting. The sheets were still warm from where he had been and there was a single brown hair on the pillow next to hers. 

Rinoa was usually composed when it came to break-ups. Usually, she just watched crappy romantic comedies while calmly eating cookies and maybe venting to a friend.

But this time, it felt like she had been picked up and broken into pieces. Regret was seeping through every inch of her skin. She shouldn't have told him. But it was the right thing to do.

She groaned. She did the _right thing_ and she was getting punished.

Angelo, sensing distress, bounded into the room and clambered onto the bed. Rinoa absently stroked the dog's dark fur.

"I did the right thing, Angelo," she whispered tearfully. "Why do I feel so bad?"

The dog just snuffled and wormed its head under Rinoa's arm. And for once, Rinoa didn't mind that there was dog hair all over her bed.

Something unfamiliar caught her eye on the floor. She sat up and craned her neck to get a better look at it.

It was Squall's weapon holster, complete with automatic pistol. Rinoa leaned over the edge of the bed and scooped it up.

Well, she thought, this would probably be a good excuse to talk to Squall again.

* * *

People seemed more irritating when Squall had a hangover. By nine-thirty, he felt fully justified to snap at three-fourths of the Balamb Police Department. 

The problem wasn't _just_ the hangover, however, even though it made him feel capable of murder. Another part of it was the fact that he had left his aide naked and sobbing on her bedroom floor. He felt like the poster boy for scumbags.

"You're a mess," Irvine commented. He was sitting back in his chair, both feet propped up on his desk.

"Do they _pay _you to sit on your ass, Kinneas?" Squall snarled. He was sifting through some age-old paperwork that Seifer had so graciously bestowed upon him.

Irvine raised his eyebrows. "Ah. Well, _someone_ had a bad night, I'm assuming?" he said sagely.

_Probably better than yours,_ Squall found himself thinking, then he immediately shook his head to clear it. That was a stupid and juvenile thought.

He struggled through another five inches of paper drudgery, while mentally cursing Seifer all the while.

He jumped as a pair of car keys landed on his desk. They had been thrown by Quistis, who definitely looked like she did _not_ have a hangover. Quistis probably _measured_ the amount of alcohol she drank and stopped at the lowest BAL possible.

"You've got a new unit," she said brusquely. "Parking space is 51A."

"Got it," he said, without looking up.

"And I'd take care of that hangover if I were you, Leonhart," she called over her shoulder as she went back to her office.

"Goddamn it. Do I have a fucking _sign_ that says 'I Have A Hangover' on my back?" Squall snapped when she was out of earshot.

"No, but if you want one, I can totally hook you up," Irvine offered. "It'd save people the speculation."

Squall just growled and snatched up the keys. Might as well check out the new unit, he decided.

* * *

He cocked his head to the side as he stared at his new vehicle. Inside, it was perfectly fine. Great, even. It ran like a dream, and everything functioned well. 

The problem was the color. It was the most nauseating, repulsive shade of neon orange that he had ever seen. The doors were black, emblazoned with an orange "BPD."

It looked like a taxi gone wrong, Squall thought disbelievingly. It looked like a _taxi_.

Squall could already imagine the look on Seifer's face when he saw this. He felt his mood plummet even farther down.

He heard the clicking of high heels as Quistis approached him. "Is it satisfactory?" she asked crisply.

"Exactly how much do you hate me?"

Quistis laughed. "I assure you, I had very little to do with this. By the way, I left a file on your desk. Thirteen-year old boy. Pretty much beaten senseless. We think it was your guy."

Squall froze. "What about Seifer and Zell?"

"They decided to delegate it to you, apparently," she answered, shrugging.

Squall raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think it was 'my guy'?" he asked, using finger quotes.

"Oh, it may have been the note addressed exclusively to you. That's just an idea," she replied lightly, handing him a note sealed in a plastic bag.

Squall took it and examined it.

_Lieutenant Leonhart,_

_Got yourself in a right little flap, haven't you? Unfortunately, the games just aren't as much fun without you around. However, we don't need you to be in the seat of power for us to end your life in the most painful way we can devise._

"Charming," Squall said absently. "Yeah, this is my guy."

"Thought so," Quistis answered. "Get over there ASAP, Lieutenant."

Squall returned to his desk and rummaged around for the aforementioned file. He tucked it under his arm as a flash of color caught his eye.

A sheet of white computer paper printed with the words "I HAVE A HANGOVER" was perched on his desk. The letters were colored in with pink, blue, and green highlighters. A frowning face in red pen was scribbled in the corner.

"Kinneas," he muttered under his breath. He had to fight to repress a small smile. _I must be going crazy._

He turned away and opened the file. Jamie Banks, currently admitted to Balamb General Hospital with severe injuries.

He felt a twinge in his stomach. At the time that Jamie Banks had been attacked, he had been involved in particularly inappropriate actions with his investigative aide.

* * *

Jamie Banks had some pretty high odds stacked against him. Bruises marred almost every inch of his chocolate-colored skin. His left arm and his right leg were broken and wrapped in casts. Both eyes were almost swollen shut. 

Yet he peacefully sipped fruit punch through a straw while watching some robot show on the hospital TV.

"Jamie?" Squall asked, standing over the broken boy in the bed.

"Hmm?" Jamie said, still drinking juice.

"My name's Lieutenant Leonhart. I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about this." He was never great shakes at talking to kids. He found himself wishing that Rinoa was still around.

"Lieutenant Leonhart?" Squall turned around. A woman in a business suit and sensible shoes was standing behind him. Her thick black hair was pulled back in a tight bun. A man, presumably her husband, was standing timidly behind her.

"My son has been through a terrible ordeal," she said, almost imperiously. "You'll talk to me instead." She outstretched her hand for him to shake. "Addison Banks."

"Mrs. Banks," Squall replied, shaking it. "It's not you that I need to talk to."

Addison frowned. "He's very badly hurt--"

"I can talk, Ma," Jamie piped up. "I can still talk."

Squall turned back around to face Jamie. "Alright, then. I need you to tell me everything. Even if it doesn't seem important. _Especially_ if it doesn't seem important."

"Okay," Jamie answered gamely, wincing as he sat up. "I was sleeping over at my friend Todd's house. I don't know what time it was, midnight maybe. I heard a rock hit the window and I went outside."

"Why did you go outside?" Squall asked quietly. Todd Abrahms had been the person who called 911, Squall remembered from the report.

The skin that wasn't bruised flushed. "I…thought it was my friends. A lot of my friends live on that street. I thought they were coming to see us. They tap on Todd's window a lot."

"Oh, Jesus, Jamie," Addison cried. "_Why_?"

"I'm sorry, Ma," Jamie whimpered. "I thought…"

"Mrs. Banks, both you and your son are incredibly lucky," Squall interrupted. "The man who most likely did this to your son has already killed four children, and intends to do more."

Both Addison and her husband looked horrified. Squall turned back around to Jamie.

"So you went outside with Todd. After that?"

"We went into the backyard. I was like, 'Guys, where are you? Stop playing around,' and something hit me on the back of the head. It hurt. A lot," Jamie recalled

"Did you get a look at his face?" Squall asked.

"No. It was too dark, and I think I passed out. He was…he was big. _Real_ strong," Jamie said.

"Where was Todd during all this?"

Jamie thought for a minute. "He ran. I heard him running and yelling. I don't remember anything else."

Squall nodded. "Alright. Thanks, Jamie. I'll probably get back to you."

Jamie nodded calmly. "Okay." And he went back to his TV show.

A kid had been beaten beyond recognition and he was calmer than his parents. That kind of thing confused Squall beyond belief.

When Squall was about to leave, Addison caught up with him. "Lieutenant Leonhart, I want to be the prosecutor for this monster's case."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "You're an attorney?"

She smiled. "And a damn good one. "

"Addy, stop it," her husband implored.

"Shut it, Brian," she snapped. Squall imagined that this woman would probably be terrifying in a courtroom.

"I insist. I'll even do it pro bono if I have to," she said.

"That's…inadvisable, Mrs. Banks," Squall said slowly. "With your degree of emotional involvement…"

"Our jobs are not the same, Lieutenant," Addison replied, her voice stony. "If you get too involved, you mess up. But if _I _get involved…" she smiled wolfishly. "I get fired up and I'm unstoppable."

"Modesty. I like that," Squall replied dryly. "I'll do what I can."

"See that you do," she shot back.

* * *

Rinoa was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair in the waiting room when Squall was on his way out. 

"You're late," was all he said.

She nodded and didn't say anything. She reached in her bag and pulled out his weapon holster.

He outstretched his hand to take it. "Thanks."

She shook her head and put it back in the bag. "Not until we talk."

"You're holding my holster hostage until I talk to you?" he said incredulously.

She nodded and motioned to the chair next to her.

"I _do_ have two more, you know," he told her.

"_Sit down_," she said acidly, in her best "wrath of God" voice.

_She's terrifying,_ Squall thought as he obediently sat down. _She can be insanely terrifying._

"Okay. I'm sitting down." The tension was as thick as metal.

She retied her shoes before she answered. "You left before I could finish this morning. I was _going_ to tell you how sorry I was, and how…" she trailed off. "How much I want to show you how sorry I am."

Squall was silent. He couldn't look her in the eye, so he looked at the floor.

"But I don't know how," she said. "I don't know what's going to make you forgive me. You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

Squall didn't want to forgive her. He was Squall Leonhart, king of grudges. He wasn't good at forgiving. In fact, he was horrible at it.

But with Rinoa, it was so overwhelmingly easy. When he looked at her wide, imploring eyes, he just wanted to shrug and take her in his arms.

"You're still mad at me," she repeated. "I knew it."

He put his chin in his hand and sighed. "I'm mad because I can't find anything to blame you for, besides being a normal, curious person."

She looked taken aback. "What?"

"I don't like losing control. But with you around, it's unavoidable. It pisses me off," he answered simply.

Rinoa was twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands. "I know what I did was wrong. But it's even worse now because you're someone I care about." She looked at him, her eyes swimming. "It hurts because I hurt you."

Everybody hurt him at one time or another, whether it was the Ring, his foster parents, Tank…it sounded melodramatic, but he was somewhat accustomed to pain.

He raised one shoulder, indicating that he didn't really know what to say. He wasn't really used to receiving heartfelt apologies. He had never really deserved one.

"I'm just asking you to forgive me. I'll do whatever it takes," she vowed. She sighed. "Please, Squall. I'm not used to groveling."

Squall hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"_Really_? Oh, Squall, thank you so much! You won't forget it, I promise!" she cried ecstatically. She tossed his holster back in his lap and planted a soft kiss on Squall's lips.

"_Rinoa_," he whispered embarrassedly.

"What?"

"Not in public."

She laughed happily. "You're too self-conscious. I think we need to work on that." She sat back in her chair, relief spilling over her. "Speaking of which, what is that _monstrosity_ of a car doing in front of the hospital?" she teased.

"Oh God," Squall groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "It gives me a migraine just _looking_ at it."

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "Look at it this way: we'll never ever have trouble finding it in a parking lot."

Squall snorted. "Yeah."

She jostled him playfully. "So, you gonna take me for a spin in it? Huh?"

He stood up from the chair. "Well, of course. Because I _really_ want to be seen in that car around the whole damn town. Really."

"Well, don't let me stop you. Where you gonna take me, Mr. Leonhart?" she asked playfully. They walked out into the afternoon sunshine, towards the cringe-inducing car. As soon as they were safely inside, Rinoa promptly pressed her lips to his again.

"Hey," he protested feebly, even though he was an active participant in the kissing.

"We're not in public anymore. You're just going to have to deal with it," she said teased. She tapped him once on the nose and sat straight again. "Where we headed?" she asked, clicking her seatbelt together.

"It's a surprise."

"I didn't peg you for the type that liked surprises," she said.

"I don't," he said simply.

They drove in silence, with their car attracting many strange looks from people on the sidewalk.

"I lied to you," Squall said suddenly.

"About what?" she asked him.

He shifted slightly in his seat. "Everything."

The car was silent except for the chugging hum of the engine.

"But I'm stopping," he said, as if to himself. "No more lies."

"That's a lot to ask of yourself," she remarked.

He just shrugged and parked the car.

"Squall?" she asked, peering out of the window. "Er…where are we?" She already had a sickening hunch.

Squall was already beginning to regret this. He sighed. He was just going to get this over with.

"My old house."

* * *

Rinoa stared at him disbelievingly. "Squall. Are you sure?" 

She wanted him to smile and nod reassuringly. But instead, he just shrugged and said "Might as well," in that awful, dead voice.

"Really, you don't have to--"

He shook his head and shut the car door. He was beginning to feel a little sick.

Tarnishing steel letters that spelled "LOIRE" were tacked onto the mailbox. Rinoa pointed at the wilting flowers that surrounded it. "Those are nice. What are they?"

Squall raised an eyebrow. "No idea. My mom was really into that sort of thing. She was always out here." He felt a painful twinge as he pictured his smiling mother, who had no problems with getting muddy in the pursuit of pretty flowers.

"Hey," she said when she noticed his weakening. She wrapped her arm around his waist. "It's alright. I'm here. We'll do it together."

He took a deep breath and nodded. He fished the key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door.

"This house has been mine since I turned 18," he said quietly as they both stepped across the threshold. "And I decided to keep it exactly the way it was."

Rinoa ran her finger along an end table, drawing a line through the thick blanket of dust. It made her cough. "It's a really nice house," she said awkwardly.

"This is my first time coming back."

She gaped up at him. "What? Oh, Squall…" she trailed off. "That really means a lot. I'm glad that you think I deserve this. Really."

Squall was slowly walking through the kitchen, as if he was lost in his own little world. The refrigerator was plastered with pictures, colorful magnets, and various reminders such as _Take out the trash on Tuesday!_

Rinoa was shocked by the lived-in atmosphere of the house. It was as if the residents were just on vacation, and would come back through the door at any given moment.

She found Squall staring at a childish drawing that was stuck on the refrigerator door. It seemed to be a portrait, of four stick figures standing close together. "Daddy," "Mommy," "Ellone," and "Me" was written over each respective figure in blocky letters.

"Kindergarten picture," Squall mused.

Rinoa tried and failed to visualize Squall as a kindergartener. "You were quite the artist," she remarked.

He led her up the winding staircase to the second floor. "This was my sister's room."

Ellone hadn't been a girly girl. The furniture was all either sky blue or mint green, and there wasn't a trace of pink around the whole room. There were framed pictures lining the dresser. Ellone with her mom, Ellone at the zoo with her dad, Ellone in the pool with her little brother.

Rinoa grinned. "You guys are so cute together!" She picked up a picture of the two siblings with their arms around each other. "You guys were really close, huh?"

"She could beat the crap out of me when we were mad at each other." Squall rubbed his forearm on instinct. He still had a faint scar there from where she had dug her nails into his arm and drew blood. Girls could certainly play dirty…

"Get out! She did not," Rinoa said, awe-struck. "She looks like the least violent girl ever."

He rolled up his sleeve and showed her his arm. Rinoa peered down at the tiny crescent-moon. "Ouch. Did you ever fight back?"

"You're not _supposed_ to hit girls, remember?" he pointed out, as if it was obvious.

She grinned at him over her shoulder. "I had no idea you were such a gentleman!"

He shrugged. "I've thought about taking a swing at you more than once," he said. But the look in his eyes told her that he was teasing.

Rinoa fingered the corner of a pillow. "You seriously haven't come back to this place in 19 years?" she asked softly.

Squall nodded. "I mean…didn't really have a good reason to…" he finished lamely. _I wanted to forget. Everything. _"Um, so my parents' room next, I guess…"

They slowly walked down the hall to the grand master bedroom. Squall could remember stumbling along the carpeted floors, trying to see through the blood that was getting into his eyes. If he thought about it hard enough, he could still see little bloodstains in the worn carpet.

Rinoa's voice was hushed, as if they were in a museum. Which, in a way, they kind of were. "It's _huge_." She stared around the gigantic room in awe as she slowly wandered into it. "Like, _three_ of my bedrooms could fit in here. Seriously."

"It drove my mom crazy, since my dad always lost stuff in here." He remembered that his parents' room had always been a prime spot for hide-and seek.

"I'm surprised they didn't get _lost_," Rinoa commented. "Can I look around?"

"Go ahead." He couldn't care less, really.

She eased open the closet door and giggled. "Jeez, I've never seen this many ties in one place. Your dad had pretty expensive taste." She ran her finger along the rows of silk ties.

Squall rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that was him." He sounded exasperated, but there was an undertone of fondness in his voice. "He was pretty annoying about it, actually."

Rinoa turned to him, pity in her eyes. "Don't be like that. You loved him. Don't act like this isn't a big deal."

He tore his eyes away from her face. The concern that she had for him was disconcerting.

"Hey," she said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "We don't have to do this."

"I've got to do it sometime," he muttered. "I mean, I need to do this."

"Yeah," she agreed. "But you don't have to do it now. You've got time."

He shrugged. "We're here, right?"

She squeezed his hand once and led him to the dresser. "Jewelry box?" she asked, her eyes falling on an ornate wooden box with silver detailing. When he nodded, she undid the delicate clasp.

"She never really wore any of this stuff," Squall said quietly as Rinoa examined the fine jewelry . "My dad just liked giving it to her. She basically wore it just to make him happy."

"That sounds like something my mom would've done," Rinoa mused, making a sky-blue topaz pendant catch the light. "Guess it's a girl thing. This is really pretty."

"You want it? You keep it."

She shot him a look. "Squall, I'm not taking your mom's jewelry."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's not like she's going to use it."

She shut the jewelry box firmly. "No. You should keep it. I don't deserve it yet." She latched the box shut. "What's next?"

"There's only one room left." This was the part of the little tour that he had been dreading the most. He gnawed at the inside of his cheek as they proceeded to the very last room at the end of the hall.

"Yours?" she said breathlessly once they stepped inside. He nodded slowly, his face expressionless.

The room had been cleaned within the last nineteen years, Rinoa could tell. No eight-year old boy was that neat. Dust was settled over everything, even the carpet.

Squall felt a wave of nausea as he looked around the room. He could still smell blood in here. He could still see death. _This was a mistake..._

Rinoa was kneeling by the bookshelf, looking at the pictures there. "God, Squall, you were so cute!" she exclaimed. Baby Squall had round blue eyes, downy brown hair, and a cherubic smile. She made a pouty face to signify exactly how cute it was. Squall rolled his eyes, slightly embarrassed.

There were more pictures, in which little Squall aged a little more in each one. The final picture was one of Squall, a gangly seven-year old, sticking his tongue out at the photographer.

"Squall, I wanna keep these," Rinoa implored.

"What is _with_ women and baby pictures?"

"_Adorable_ baby pictures," she corrected. Her face softened and she kissed him on the tip of his nose. "I guess you _are_ still pretty cute."

"Uh…good to know," he said distractedly. It was hard to imagine being in the room that had started it all, while kissing the woman he loved. It was an interesting situation.

"So, what's this for?" she asked, motioning to a small silver trophy on the top shelf.

"Fencing. _Don't_ laugh," he warned.

"I'm not laughing," she said, between giggles. "You must've been pretty good, then."

"Good enough, I suppose," he answered, bending down and retrieving the fencing foil from behind the bookshelf.

Rinoa tipped her head to the side. "It's bent," she remarked. The foil was bent at almost a forty-degree angle.

He didn't look at her while he tried to straighten it. "I hit him on the head with it," he said quietly.

"Huh?"

"After he cut me. I hit him on the head with it."

Understanding finally dawned on Rinoa. "That scar on your face. He gave you that, didn't he?"

Squall nodded, still looking at the floor.

Rinoa swallowed hard. "Did they ever find him?" she asked.

Squall looked at the ceiling. "Jesus. I guess it's story time."

"You don't have to tell me. I think I know enough. Really," she said quickly.

"Then you might as well know the rest of it."

They sat on the dusty bed, and Squall lay on his back.

"It was five years ago, I think. Just passed the exam. I'm looking for a suspect downtown, and some guy, who's totally wasted, comes up to me and says, 'Squall Loire, right?'" He sounded calm, almost conversational, but the way he was clenching and unclenching his fists revealed that he wasn't.

"MacGill?" she asked.

Squall nodded, smiling slightly. "Of course."

"Hey, how come your last name isn't Loire, huh?"

Squall frowned. "If I took his name, people would just think, 'Oh, it's that dead drug-dealer's kid' and not take me seriously."

Rinoa was silent. The sad thing was that it was probably true.

"So MacGill comes up to me. And he says, 'I can help you find what you're looking for.'" Squall smiled again. "Of course, being wasted, he wasn't as…_articulate_," he added. Rinoa giggled.

"He told me all kinds of stuff…about the Ring, about everything. He told me who the head guys were, and he told me…who did this," he said curtly. "And in exchange, I kept him safe."

"You're friends," she said softly.

"I guess you could call it that," he answered, shrugging. "It took me a while, but I finally found the guy. His name was Gerald Franklin. And when I found him, he was…I don't even know what he was on. He was on something, I know that." Rinoa could sense that Squall was beginning to falter.

"And so I went in, and he recognized me right away. He started screaming that he was going to kill me, finish what he started. And I did all the routine stuff, you know, 'drop your weapon and come quietly' and all that."

"Did he?" she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

He snorted. "No. He came at me with a gun. He was dead serious. And I knew it was me or him."

He took a big breath. "I killed him. Shot him right between the eyes."

"Oh, Squall…" Rinoa breathed, grabbing his hand.

"I mean, I _warned _him. I fucking warned him that I would shoot if he came any closer. It wasn't my fault," he said bitterly.

"I know. You did what you had to."

He exhaled. For some reason, he was glad that she understood. "And of course, I got sued by the family, and I had to go through all the legal bullshit."

She lay down next to him, burying her face in his neck.

"They called me a monster. Said that I was mistaken."

"That's crap," Rinoa said viciously. "I can't believe that."

"That's what they did. Quistis had to give me a 'special talk' and sent me to the department shrink for an hour."

"How'd that go?"

"He said that I was one of the most uncooperative people he'd ever talked to. He just about went nuts when I said that I didn't have any remorse," Squall commented.

"I guess I can't blame you," she said.

"So Quistis finally said that she knew why I had to do it. And…that's it," he finished.

"I didn't know you were capable of talking this much," she teased.

"Oh, shut up."

"_That's_ more like the Squall I know." She put her head on his shoulder as they both stared up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, Rinoa spoke again. "My middle name is Leigh. I'm allergic to cats. I can't do math to save my life."

"What are you doing?"

"I'm telling you all about myself. You know, making up for invading your privacy?" Rinoa answered. "I really, _really_ want to make this up to you."

He gave her a strange look. "Fine. Go ahead."

"I miss my mother every day. My dog is probably my best friend. I went to school in Timber and I hated it."

It occurred to him, as he lay back and listened to her talk, that he really, _really_ loved this woman.

"When I was younger, I did everything that my dad told me to. When I was fifteen, he slapped me and I ran away for one night." She saw Squall frown slightly. "I'm crap at doing the laundry. I used to go out with boys just to be seen while going out with boys." She blushed slightly. "I've been told that I'm not very good in bed."

"They just told you? Right to your face?" Squall asked amusedly.

"Yeah. That says something, huh? Um…I love mint chocolate chip ice cream. I need to lose weight. And…my favorite color is blue. Think that's enough?"

"I think we can call ourselves even," Squall murmured.

She grinned. "Good." Temporary embarrassment was worth it in exchange for a clear conscience.

He shifted so that he was lying on his side and facing her. "I was always bad at science. My middle name is Christopher."

"Hey," she said. "I think I know enough of your secrets."

"I don't want you to just know about my dead family." For some reason, he wanted her to know. He wanted her to know the important things.

"Well, okay," she said, smiling. "I'm up for that."

"Okay. Hm…I don't talk to most people because most people annoy the hell out of me. Quistis Trepe was like my second mother back in the day. When I was a foster kid, my foster parents would hit me all the time. Some of them did worse. I always wondered what it would've been like if I went to college. I became a cop because I never wanted to be a victim again. And," he said, whispering into her ear. "I don't think you're bad in bed at all."

Rinoa laughed, her cheeks reddening. "I can't believe you just said that."

Squall couldn't believe that he had just said that either. He wondered if he was still being affected by some residual drunkenness.

She put a hand on his stomach and felt it rise and fall with his breathing. "We're pretty weird, aren't we?"

"Yeah."

"I'm proud of you, you know. I'm glad we can tell each other things."

Squall nodded. Telling her things had gotten exponentially easier now that she already knew the worst of it.

She rolled closer to him. "I think we're good for each other," she whispered. Before he knew it, he was losing himself again as she brushed her lips against his. His breath was coming in erratic spurts.

There was a beeping from Squall's pocket as his cell phone rang.

"Damn it," he said under his breath. He frowned when the display screen revealed that the caller was Quistis. He flipped the phone open. "Leonhart." He was eternally grateful that Quistis couldn't see her Lieutenant Detective under his aide.

"I need you in my office. Now."

He bit back a moan as Rinoa's teeth scraped against his earlobe. He glared and mouthed _stop it_ at her. She just grinned back. "Is there some sort of trouble?"

"Oh yes, quite a bit of it. Get down here." She definitely didn't sound like she was handing out medals this time.

He sighed. "Fine. I'll be there."

"Bring Heartilly, too. This concerns both of you."

* * *

Don't kill me if there's OOC-ness. I had a warning in the very first chapter for a reason, you know. 

Okay, so enjoy! Review, please, and hang tight until the next update!

-peridotaurora


	16. Won't You Hold Me?

**Disclaimer: **I'd probably have better things to do with my time if I owned Squaresoft.

**Chapter Warnings**: Swearing and…alcohol consumption?

**Chapter Summary**: Squall and Rinoa's secret turned out to be just the opposite, and both of them struggle to deal with painful repercussions.

* * *

_I am too busy to have friends_

_A lover would just complicate my plans_

_So I will never look for love again._

_I'm taking matters into my own hands._

-"First Orgasm" by the Dresden Dolls

* * *

**The Force**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Now that pen-chewing was completely out of the question for Squall for obvious reasons, he found that he was developing a lot of different nervous habits. The habit of the moment happened to be nail-biting.

"That doesn't make you look very professional," Rinoa murmured, mocking Squall as he bit down on his thumbnail.

"I'm not _feeling_ too professional at the moment. You realize what she wants, right?" he remarked. They were leaning against the wall outside Quistis's office, waiting for her to summon them.

"What are you _talking _about?" she asked, smiling. She really had no clue.

He rolled his eyes. Ignorance certainly _was_ bliss. "She knows," he hissed.

Rinoa looked at him incredulously. "Who knows? _Quistis_? Oh, come on. She couldn't possibly."

"She does."

"I'll bet you five bucks that she doesn't."

Squall shot her an aggrieved look. "Heartilly, this is _hardly_ the time."

"Oh, come on. You know you wanna," she challenged, grinning impishly. _If he is right, might as well lighten it up a little. _"Deal?"

Squall rolled his eyes a second time. "Fine. Whatever."

"You're on, Mr. Leonhart," she whispered as Quistis finally said, "Come in."

_Prepare to lose five bucks, Rinoa_, Squall thought, his anxiety feeling like lead in his stomach.

Quistis's hands were folded and she was wearing a spotless, olive green suit. She definitely did not look like she was in a smiling mood.

"Well," she said frostily as soon as the two entered. "Sit down."

They sat down immediately, as if they would face the wrath of Quistis if they didn't sit down within a split second.

"I've received some information from an anonymous source," she began. Her gaze was focused on Squall now. "Which stated that you and your aide have been involved in rather _inappropriate_ liaisons."

Rinoa froze, but Squall spoke instead. "With all due respect, how can you be so sure of this…_source's_ credibility?"

Quistis smiled. It was not a benevolent smile, but a razor-thin, catlike smile that suggested that both Squall and Rinoa were in deep trouble.

"I've been on the force for eleven years, Lieutenant. As a result, I know how to put two and two together. From where I'm standing, it's all too obvious."

"You're acting on a tip-off that's not based on any hard evidence. It's called illusory correlation, remember?" he shot back.

"Watch it, Lieutenant," Quistis retorted, her eyes now resembling ice chips.

"I won't let my career be ruined by a ridiculous rumor from people who want to sabotage me," Squall exploded. Rinoa just gaped silently at him.

"_Lieutenant Leonhart_," Quistis said emphatically. "This is not an attack on your performance or character."

Squall just glowered at her from across the desk. Rinoa squirmed uncomfortably.

"However," Quistis continued. "I will have you know that this is a very serious matter, and a severe deviation from BPD protocol."

_Here it goes,_ Squall thought.

"If this is proven to be the case, either one or both of you will be terminated and all affiliation with the BPD will be erased. _However_," she continued, leaning forward. "I will give you _one_ chance. Clear up whatever's going on between you two, and I mean _everything_. Make me forget that this ever happened. Clear?"

Squall grit his teeth. "Absolutely." Saying it was like trying to chew through stone.

"Officer Heartilly," Quistis said, turning to Rinoa. "Is there anything you'd like to say regarding this? Something in your defense?"

"What?" Rinoa squeaked, jumping. "Oh, ah…you have absolutely nothing to worry about. We're both completely innocent."

_Way to be a terrible liar, Rinoa…_

Quistis stared at Rinoa for a minute, then nodded. "Well…alright then. You're free to go."

They closed Quistis's office door behind her and silently headed for the exit. The station was abuzz with murmurs from people who had obviously heard the news _and_ heard the yelling from Quistis's office.

"Hm…looks like Leonhart can't keep it in his pants," Seifer murmured loud enough for only Squall to hear.

Squall's fists clenched tight, as if by reflex. However much he wanted to rip Seifer a new mouth, he just kept walking. _Self-control. _He needed it more than ever.

Before he left, Squall could've sworn that he heard Irvine say, "The hell with that, at least he's getting some."

* * *

The first thing that Squall said when they both reached the parking lot was, "Pay up, Heartilly."

"How could she possibly know?" Rinoa asked, her eyebrows furrowed. "I mean, how could _anyone_ possibly know?"

"So, what are we going to do?"

Rinoa just stared at him. She was used to asking that question, not answering it. She looked heavenward and tried to think. "Well, it looks like we have a choice."

Squall didn't have to ask her what the choices were. He already knew. It was either their jobs or their relationship. He leaned against the door of his hideous car and stared at the asphalt.

She sidled closer to him and tried to meet his gaze. "You already know how I feel. Now we just need to know…if you feel the same way."

Squall had the sick feeling that he knew what she was going to ask him. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and didn't answer.

She sighed and tore her gaze away from him. "Because if you love me too, that's great. We can get through this…work it out. But if you don't…" she trailed off and threw up her hands helplessly. "I don't know."

Squall was still silent. Dark clouds were gliding across the sky and it was starting to drizzle.

Rinoa sighed again, louder this time. This was not a good time for Squall to be clamming up. "You fought for us in there. I know that. And if you stayed with me…I promise that I'll make this worth fighting for."

Squall finally spoke up, but his voice was brittle and quiet. "You don't get it, do you? There is no 'us.' There is not allowed to _be_ an 'us.' That's _exactly_ what Quistis was talking about."

Rinoa made a frustrated little noise between her teeth. "I _know_ what's going on here! And you didn't answer my question."

A headache throbbed in his forehead. Squall felt like screaming at her. "You still don't get it."

"_What_ don't I get? What do you think I'm missing, _Squall?_" she exclaimed.

Squall grit his teeth and turned to face the station. "You know where my life's been for the last nine years, Heartilly? Here. This building. And, contrary to popular belief, I'm proud of it. And now you're asking me to choose between my life and something that I'm still trying to figure out."

She looked at him disbelievingly. "Something that you're still trying to figure out," she repeated.

He glanced at her. "Well," he replied. "What would you call it?"

"Me? I'd call it a relationship. But I don't think that we're on the same page."

"No," he agreed. "I don't think so, either."

It was starting to rain harder now. Squall bowed his head against the fierce sheets of water. Neither of them felt the urge to go inside.

"It wouldn't work out between us, you know," he said quietly. "We're different."

"And why's that?" she challenged.

"With me being like I am, and you being…you?"

"That never really mattered to me before," Rinoa informed him.

He just shrugged. He was just stalling, trying to make a decision quickly and failing miserably.

"Do you love me, Squall? You can tell me the truth," she said suddenly.

Squall exhaled. There was probably no avoiding the question now.

"I…don't. I'm sorry. I don't."

He had broken his "no more lies" rule of several hours earlier, he realized. But this would be easiest. Quick and clean.

Maybe not so clean.

Squall had never had any real experience with break-ups. The crying, the begging…he wasn't prepared for it.

Fortunately, none of that happened. She just said, "Alright." She was disconcertingly calm. No tears. Not even a sad expression. Just "alright."

"Er…" he said. He was going to ask her something along the lines of "Are you okay?" or "I'm sorry," but the words wouldn't come out.

The rain came down even harder and lightning was starting to streak the sky. Rinoa nodded and said, "Alright," again, and then started to walk away.

"Where are you going? You're still on the clock," he called after her.

She whipped around. "I'm letting you get back to your 'life'," she shouted over the spray of the rain, using finger-quotes. It was terribly immature, but there was no real way to express just how she was feeling.

"Come back when you drop the fucking attitude," he yelled back.

She responded by raising a certain finger at him behind her back. It could've gotten her fired, but at this point, she could've cared less.

He wanted to laugh at her, even though it was one of the least humorous situations he had ever been in.

Squall rested his head against the side of the car, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see her go. If he had to see her walking away, all the way across the vast parking lot, he didn't think that he could swallow the enormous lump that had just formed in his throat.

_And what am I upset for, exactly? _He still had his job. But now, he was starting to wonder if he had made a mistake.

Whoever said that "breaking up is hard to do" certainly wasn't kidding.

* * *

The cycle of sleeping with someone, breaking up in a rumbling fight, and getting shamelessly drunk was a bit clichéd, in Rinoa's opinion. But it was oh-so-hard to not get sucked into the circle.

Alcohol was how it started and it looked like alcohol was how it was going to end, Rinoa thought bitterly as she set down her glass onto the bar.

She didn't like bars. They were dirty, they smelled bad, and there were way too many burly truckers who didn't know how to keep their eyes to themselves.

But _fuck_, she had never felt so bad before.

"Jeez, lady," the bartender remarked. "For a little thing like you, you sure know how to hold the liquor."

"Shut up," she snapped. She heard a rather familiar voice say, "Jesus Christ, is that _you_, Rin?"

Rinoa turned around and arched an eyebrow. "MacGill?"

It certainly was MacGill, his hair a new shocking red. "Yeah, but…didn't figure you to be the sleazy bar type."

"I'm _not_ the sleazy bar type," she muttered. "I just…God…" she said, putting a hand over her eyes.

He sat down on the stool next to her. "Damn, Rin, what happened to you? You get knocked up?"

She gave him a dirty look. "Would I be sitting here _drinking_ if I got pregnant, Ian?"

"Eh. You never know," MacGill said, shrugging. "If you wanted to get rid of it bad enough…"

"No, MacGill," she said miserably. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Uh…I'm supposed to be meeting a…friend."

"You're on a drug deal, aren't you?" she said, without missing a beat. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna bust you. I'm not on duty," she said darkly.

"So you get hammered when you're off duty? Didn't know you were such a party girl, Rin," MacGill said playfully. He motioned for the bartender to give him a beer.

Rinoa just made a face and swallowed some more tequila.

"How's Leonhart, anyway? Any closer to finding the guy?" MacGill asked. But he noticed how Rinoa's face crumpled when Squall's name was mentioned and he sighed. "Ah, hell. It's Leonhart, isn't it?"

"_No_," Rinoa exclaimed vehemently, even though her voice was wavering and tear-drenched. She shook her head fiercely and glared down at the surface of the bar. "You know what? I'm fine. I'm not going to freak out. I'm not…_damn it_," she swore, her voice cracking.

"What did he _do_? 'Cause I'll break his face if he did something to get rid of that pretty smile, Rin," MacGill said endearingly.

Rinoa sniffed and smiled weakly. "I just…I made a mistake. We both made a mistake."

MacGill slammed down his glass. "You fucked him."

"_MacGill!_" she cried, shocked. "Who told you?"

"You did? I was totally kidding! You…oh my God!" MacGill exclaimed. He put his head down on the bar and his shoulders were shaking violently from laughter.

"_It's not funny_!" Rinoa wailed.

"Yes, it is!" MacGill choked between spastic giggles.

Rinoa was just about to stand up and leave when MacGill grabbed her by the wrist. "Okay. Okay, I'll stop laughing, I promise." His face was still red with mirth. "But what're you cryin' about, anyway?"

Rinoa groaned and told MacGill about her messy break-up.

MacGill just rolled his eyes after she finished. "He _is_ such an ass. But you know, since I'm sorta his mate and all…"

"I know, I know. You don't want to sit here bad-mouthing him."

MacGill shrugged and slowly tugged Rinoa's glass away from her. "You know, you should probably go back. Killers don't catch themselves, you know."

"I _can't_, I'm too drunk." And she didn't think that she had managed to "drop the fucking attitude" yet.

MacGill tittered. "Good point. Go sleep it off, then. And tell Squall to keep his dick where it belongs."

Rinoa grumbled as she prepared to head back out into the rain. MacGill touched her wrist again. "Hey."

She looked back down at him. "What?"

"Things'll look up again, babe. Life only stays shitty for so long."

She smiled fondly at him. "I didn't know you could be such a sweetheart."

He grinned mischievously. "Yeah, I know, right? But don't get any ideas, you can't have me! I've got a lady."

Rinoa raised her eyebrows in delight. "Do you _really_?"

"Shh, I'm keeping it on the down low, get me? People can't know that old MacGill's gone soft. C'mon, now."

Rinoa thought it rather sad that drug dealers were so worried about their reputation that they had to hide the fact that they had significant others. Then again, she didn't feel like she was in the position to talk. She mimed zipping her lips. "What's her name?"

MacGill reddened slightly. "Kat," he muttered.

Rinoa winked at him indulgently. "Don't worry, it's cute. You've cheered me up, Ian."

"Don't thank me 'til you sober up, sweetie."

But his usually devious face softened slightly, which led Rinoa to believe that he was thinking about Kat. "But just be happy, 'kay?"

Rinoa wrapped her coat tighter around her. "I'll let you know how I feel about that as soon as this hangover kicks in."

* * *

"You should have come to me about this ages ago," Selphie scolded, shaking her head. "Now that it's rained, this'll be pretty much impossible. The scent's all but gone."

She had a droopy-faced bloodhound on the leash instead of Zeke. Squall and Selphie were standing in the middle of the woods, where Tim Monroe and the Boss had fled after the shoot-out.

"I need to eliminate things," Squall retorted.

Selphie sighed. "Fine. Give him something to sniff," she answered, motioning to the bloodhound.

Squall held out the various stalker notes that he had retrieved from the forensics lab. They were bound into a bundle with a rubber band. The bloodhound sniffed the little stack of papers inquisitively and immediately dipped its head down to the ground.

"How long is this going to take?" Squall asked quietly as the dog snuffled fervently.

"It can take hours," Selphie replied, shrugging.

He glared at her. "I don't _have_ hours, Tilmitt."

"Next time, try getting me to do this when the scent hasn't faded already."

Squall was slightly taken aback. He never saw the annoyingly cheerful Selphie this aggravated. "I got caught up," he said simply.

"Don't blame this on Rinoa," she commanded as they both slowly followed the bloodhound on its trail.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Tilmitt."

"Oh, ha ha. We all heard you in Quistis's office, Squall, no need to lie," Selphie shot back.

"I wasn't aware that it was any of your business."

Selphie stuck out her lower jaw so she looked like a petulant teenager. "My friend, my business," she declared.

"So let me guess. I break it off with someone, and all her little friends are automatically going to hate me? I don't care, in case you were wondering," he snapped.

"I didn't expect you to," she answered coolly, in a way that was very un-Selphie. She smiled to herself. _Zing_!

They followed the dog in silence for a few minutes, Selphie firmly holding the leash and Squall with his hands in his jacket pockets.

After a while, the dog whined and stopped. It looked up at Selphie as if waiting for further instructions.

"End of the line," Selphie remarked.

"What?"

"He's lost it. The scent stops here. It's probably because of the rain and the timeframe."

"You can't be serious," Squall demanded.

"Oh, come on, Squall. This would be difficult in even the best case scenario. Since this is the _farthest_ thing from the best case scenario, you should give the dog at least a _little _credit," Selphie interjected, always one to defend her beloved K9s.

_You and your damn dogs_, Squall thought absently.

"Well? This is it. Why don't you do something constructive now?" she asked.

"I outrank you, Officer Tilmitt," Squall reminded her severely.

"What_ever_…Lieutenant," she added reluctantly.

Squall turned away from her impatiently and started going over his mental checklist. _Got the results from Forensics…check. Followed a dog around for a half an hour and didn't get jack…check._

He heard the crunching of leaves as Selphie started walking away from him. The dog trotted obediently at her side.

"You're _very_ mad at me, aren't you?" he remarked amusedly.

"Yes," she said immediately, without turning around. "Yes, I am." She stopped in her tracks, sighed, and started winding the dog's leash around her bare hand. "Look. Rin's my friend. You hurt her. Therefore, I'm mad at you. Do you get it now?"

"Did it ever occur to you that you don't know the whole situation?"

Selphie shrugged and started walking again. "It doesn't matter what the situation is. All that matters is that you did it, right? She cared about you, you know."

Squall snorted. "Don't act like you know shit. You just found about it this morning."

"I could tell. There was something there."

"If you could tell, then you would know that it wouldn't have worked out," he snapped, zipping and unzipping his jacket (which was yet another nervous habit).

"You know, Squall, I never would've guessed that you couldn't work things out," Selphie said. She said it in an offhand way, but Squall knew that she just wanted to jump up and yell at him.

He sniffed contemptuously and walked past her. "Shows how much you know."

* * *

"I _am_ going to pay those parking tickets. I swear to God, I am."

Sherry Abrahms, a sweaty, bespectacled woman, was standing flustered at the door. "You're not going to fine me, are you?"

"No, even though I should. I'm Lieutenant Leonhart, Homicide detective. Is your son home?" _Don't give me crap, lady, I'm not in the mood…_

"Oh, Todd's due back any minute now. Come inside!"

"No, I can come back." Squall didn't much feel like hanging around a civilian's house at the moment.

"No, really, it won't be that long," Sherry insisted.

"That's _really_ not necessary…"

"What's not necessary?" a new voice asked.

Squall turned around to face a heavyset redheaded boy with a backpack slung over one shoulder. "And you'd be Todd?"

"Uh huh. This is about Jamie, isn't it?"

"I just need you to tell me what happened."

"I'm gonna put my stuff down first," Todd announced, and dropped his backpack next to the door. "Okay, we can go to the kitchen." He led both Squall and a bewildered Mrs. Abrahms to the kitchen, where he sat on a chair and poured himself a glass of grape soda.

"Want me to start from the beginning?" Todd asked, with a glistening purple mustache on his upper lip. He kicked his legs aimlessly.

Squall nodded silently, leaning against the wall.

Todd told the whole story of how he and Jamie journeyed outside to the source of the mysterious noise, taking long gulps of soda in between.

"I never saw the guy's face. It was too dark. He was tall, though. And he just started _whaling_ on Jamie with…something. I think it might've been a pipe or something. Maybe a crowbar."

"What did you do next?"

"I just feel really bad, you know? I mean…I just ran. I didn't even think. I just ran," Todd said glumly.

"You did the right thing by calling the police, honey," Sherry reminded her son.

"I could've helped Jamie out, though. Been a real friend. Hit the guy back."

Ordinarily, Squall would've attempted to calm Todd down, tell him that it wasn't his fault, tell him that there wasn't anything that could've been done. But now, he just didn't really feel like it. He leaned his head back against the wall, not caring how bad it looked.

"But I didn't. I was too much of a wimp. You can talk the talk and everything, but when the real thing comes along, you just run. That's what I did. I ran away."

_We've got something in common, kid…_

"I'm going to see him later today. And I'm going to apologize. I'm gonna say sorry for not being a good friend. I bet he would've helped me out, if I had been the one," Todd murmured.

"There's no way of really knowing that," Squall commented quietly.

Todd smiled. "You're probably right." He drank the last of his soda and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "We're never _really_ as strong as we wanna be, huh?"

"No," Squall mused. His thoughts were with _her_ now, out on the starry balcony of her house. "I guess not."

* * *

She came to his door that night at nine o'clock PM. Her hair was pulled back severely and she was wearing thick black eyeliner to hide the redness of her eyes. She looked ruthless, and it didn't suit her.

It killed him to admit it, but he missed the Rinoa who giggled and drank coffee with her pasta. He had never felt such an acute sensation of really _missing_ someone. He was used to the dull ache that came with missing his family, because he'd been experiencing it for nineteen years. But now it felt like he had lost some huge power struggle, and had to cope with actually feeling the pain of missing her. She had crashed into him like a truck, and now he had to scrape himself off the road.

"Officer Heartilly," he said curtly.

"Lieutenant Leonhart." Her voice was new, empty, and raw. "I hope you'll forgive me for my misconduct this morning, and I'll make sure that it won't be repeated."

It sounded so recited and forced. Squall wanted to smile at the mental image of Rinoa practicing those lines in front of a mirror. "You don't mean it," he said quietly.

A smile, a strained, twisted smile, finally graced her lips. "No. I don't," Rinoa conceded. "But I said it. And that's all that matters."

With that, she turned around and walked away, heels rapping smartly on the sidewalk.

"That's all that matters," Squall repeated to himself and closed the door.

He practically ran to the bathroom and leapt into the shower. He pulled the curtain closed and took a long, excruciatingly icy shower. Even after he got dressed, his teeth were still chattering and his lips tinged an unsightly blue. He squinted at himself in the mirror through the hair that was in his eyes. _The hair. I have got to do something about the hair._

Standing above a trashcan, he attacked his bangs with a pair of scissors, not particularly caring where he cut. Wet tendrils of brown hair were falling rapid-fire into the wastebasket. He only stopped and yelped in surprised pain as the scissors grazed the skin of his forehead.

Wasn't he a sight? Half his hair gone, and a bleeding cut on his face. He leaned forward until his nose was almost touching the glass of the mirror. _Why did I do this?_

He already knew the answer. It was because of desperation, and it was because he wished that his newfound despair and loneliness would just fall away, like the hair lying in a forlorn pile in his bathroom trashcan.

* * *

_I think I could last at least a week _

_Without someone to hold me._

_Won't you hold me?

* * *

_

Sorry this one took so long. Junior year is…time-consuming, to say the least. But hold on to your hats, folks…there's about three or four more chapters left of this…

Later,

peridotaurora (uh, you guys can actually call me by my real name if you want. It's Megan.)


	17. Our December Sun is Setting

**Disclaimer**: This storyline is the product of my imagination. However, Final Fantasy and its characters are not mine. Remember?

**Chapter Warning**: Swearing

**Chapter Summary**: Squall feels his resolve slowly crumble while Rinoa finally faces the detective's exam.

* * *

_And stand together, yet not too near together_

_For the pillars of the temple stand apart, _

_And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow. _

-The Prophet, by Khalil Gibran

* * *

**The Force**

**Chapter Seventeen**

"Rather interesting plot twists, wouldn't you say, Tim?" the Boss remarked, lounging luxuriously in a velvet armchair.

"You've got a pretty weird sense of humor, Boss." Tim had a smoldering cigarette butt clenched between his index and middle finger. "I think this sucks."

"And why's that?" asked the Boss, raising an eyebrow at Tim's not-so-eloquent sentiments.

"Wasn't the whole point of this to keep Leonhart around so we could stick him? Now he's like, under probation," Monroe complained.

"You always _did_ have trouble thinking outside the box, Tim. Care for another cigarette? Yours seems to be on its last leg," the Boss said, holding out a pack of cigarettes.

Tim accepted the cigarette and lit it with an old pewter lighter. "All I'm sayin' is…" he started again. "What the hell are we supposed to do now that Leonhart's not gonna be around, huh?"

The Boss raised his forefinger and tapped his temple. "That's why you're not the leader, Monroe. _Think_."

"Uh…our plan will work if we piss him off enough?"

The Boss sighed impatiently. "_Yes_, but that's not all. Emotional involvement is pivotal, in our case. And in our case, a certain investigative aide named Officer Heartilly comes into play…"

"That Heartilly chick? What about her?"

The Boss smiled with delight. "What _about_ her, you ask? It's that she makes dear Leonhart's heart go all aflutter with love, that's what! Haven't you any idea of what we could _do_ with this?"

"Leonhart…in love? You're shitting me, right?" Tim repeated incredulously.

"Hm…no, I don't believe that I'm _shitting_ you, Tim."

"Gotta admit, Boss, you're a right sneaky bastard," Tim said admiringly.

"Yes," the Boss said, blowing out a thin stream of smoke. "Yes, I know I am."

* * *

The date of the detective's exam was too close for comfort, and the days felt like they were rapidly slipping by. Rinoa spent almost every night in bed, curled up with some Chinese takeout and police procedure handbooks.

But when the day of the exam arrived, Rinoa felt disproportionately panicked. She wasn't ready for this! Not even close. The thought made her stomach jump up into her tonsils.

She wasn't ready. No amount of studying could have prepared her for this. She needed him. She needed someone to say to her, "I think you're going to do great." Where was that person in her life?

Even though Squall never would've said it out loud, she _was_ getting to be a damn good cop. She never faltered when it came to interviewing anymore, and she was even starting to develop the self-assured swagger that most detectives developed.

But for some reason, Squall didn't like it.

The whole "I'm Ms. Badass Cop" thing just didn't work for her. The sweet naiveté had left her face and she seemed like an empty shell without it. Squall much preferred it when he had to yell at her for hugging shady drug dealers.

But he never had to yell at her anymore. There was no more yelling between the both of them. No playful banter, no affectionate sarcasm. Just silence.

And Seifer.

"Hey, Leonhart, you get a haircut?"

Squall rolled his eyes. "Way to use those miraculous powers of perception."

"Yeah? Well, if I were you, I'd sue the guy who did it." The ever-present smirk on Seifer's face was especially prominent.

Squall didn't need Seifer to tell him. He knew that his hair looked like crap. It ended in a jagged fringe right above the top of his ear and there was one tuft that was slightly longer than all the rest.

Squall sighed and rubbed his aching scar. His pocket suddenly vibrated as his phone rang.

_Well, speak of the devil, it's the shady drug dealer_, Squall thought as he clamped the phone to his ear. "Ian, what is it now?"

"_Someone_ sounds happy to talk to me," MacGill drawled.

"I'm overjoyed. Make it fast."

"You'd better be grateful, I've got some good shit for you," MacGill warned. "Guess who came a-calling last night?"

"MacGill, I am _not_ in the mood," he growled.

"Hm, figures. Most guys are in an awesome mood once they get laid. Must not've been that good…"

"I'm hanging up now…"

"No, wait! Okay, I'm done messing with you. Look, the Ring called me last night," MacGill said.

Squall snapped to attention immediately. "What?"

"You heard me. They're recruiting. They're trying to get the old members back in. Figured that I'd call you, ya know?"

"Okay…okay," Squall repeated, trying to get his thoughts in order. "You need to give me your phone. And…we'll need to tap it in case they call again."

"Whaaat?! Are you serious? Oh, come on, man, I _know_ you need a warrant for that…" MacGill exclaimed.

"Technically, I do. But you could make it a hell of a lot easier on me by just giving me permission right here and now."

There was silence from the other end. Occasionally, the sound of MacGill tapping on the phone with his finger could be heard.

Squall waited and said, "As a favor to me." There was still silence. Squall gave an almighty sigh and said, "_Please_."

"Well, since you asked so nicely," MacGill answered cheerfully. "When you gonna pick it up?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of you coming here and dropping it off."

"Ugh…fine. Lazy bastard," MacGill grumbled.

"And Ian. _Do not _tell anyone about this. Not the Ring. Not even your damn mother."

"You think I'm still fucking _into _that shit?" Ian said with disgust. "After nine years? I don't believe you, man…"

"Stop cussing me out and just get down here," Squall commanded. He hung up the phone and shoved it in his pocket. Great. Now MacGill was mad at him.

"Who was that?" Rinoa asked, unsmiling.

He didn't look at her. "I'm gonna need you to wait in the bullpen for Ian MacGill and get his phone. Take it to the ED and have them tap it." He headed for the door.

"What for?"

"Just _do_ it!" he called over his shoulder.

Rinoa frowned. It looked like everything was back to the way it was in the beginning.

When Squall was outside, his phone rang again. Fully expecting it to be a seething MacGill, he opened it angrily. "_What_?" he snapped.

"Bad time?"

_Oh, hell no._ "…Thetis?"

"The very same. Should I call back later?" she asked.

"Er…" Squall held back the impulse to say _"How did you get my number?_"

"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like you to speak to you in person," Thetis said, without waiting for him to speak.

"I'm on duty," Squall said immediately. Visiting Thetis was somewhere on the bottom of the list of things he wanted to do.

"But isn't it true that you've been bumped down to attending officer?"

"Don't remind me," he replied irritably.

"Right. My apologies. Look, Squall, this is really important. I'd really appreciate it if…"

"This is _really_ not a good time…look, can't we do this over the phone?" Squall asked. He was especially careful not to raise his voice, because Squall wasn't about to shout at an old lady. He wasn't that far gone yet.

"Why don't we meet at my house? I can make a pot of tea," she persisted.

"Ah…I'm not really a tea person."

"Squall."

Squall rolled his eyes. He knew that tone of voice. It was the "I'm getting impatient, so you'd better get your ass over here" voice. And for some reason, it always seemed to work.

He stalked back into the station, where Rinoa was receiving a phone from a very irritated Ian MacGill.

"I'm taking off," Squall informed her. "Thetis is hell-bent on having a tea party."

Rinoa wanted to laugh, but she just nodded. "Do you need me to come with you?"

"No."

MacGill arched both eyebrows. "Did you say Thetis? As in Doyle?"

"Thetis as in Doyle," he answered.

"Dude…can I come with? I haven't seen her in ages."

Squall gave him a strange look. "Why do _you_ want to go?"

"Because…just because." MacGill looked slightly embarrassed.

"On second thought, I don't really think I wanna know."

"It's nothing like that, you fucking pervert!" MacGill exclaimed.

Squall sighed. "Fine. Whatever. I'm taking a civilian to a tea party." He turned back to Rinoa. "And Heartilly."

"Yes?"

"Your exam. What time are you taking it?"

She glanced at her watch. "In about 3 and a half hours. Why?" Her voice was sterile, humorless. He missed the old "her," the one that would make stupid jokes at every damn thing he said.

"Nothing." His throat suddenly felt dry, even though he had drunk something barely half an hour ago. He wanted to say "good luck," but that seemed incomprehensible.

It hit him. _This is what it all comes down to_. Months ago, an innocent, enthusiastic girl had been plopped down at his feet. And he had chewed her up, _molded_ her into something completely different.

The thought made him want to vomit. _All of this is over._ He finally just spat it out.

"Make me look good out there."

* * *

_1. Explain in detail the policies and procedures involved in interviewing a suspect._

Rinoa found herself biting a pencil, something she hadn't done since middle school. She couldn't remember for the life of her what the _proper_ procedure for interviewing was. She could just picture Squall relentlessly harassing Monroe when his answers didn't quite measure up. Somehow, she didn't think that Squall's method was…approved by the BPD.

She sighed and looked at the ceiling. The burly man sitting next to her gave her a strange look.

What would Squall say if he was here? He'd probably glance over her shoulder at the question and say, "I _know_ I taught you that. Why don't you show me a little effort, Heartilly?"

_Make me look good out there_, he had said.

Rinoa grinned to herself and decided to show him some effort.

* * *

"So nice of you to come, Squall," Thetis said softly.

_Sneaky old hag_, Squall thought sourly.

Thetis's face lit up when she got a glimpse of MacGill. "_Ian_? That's you, Ian?"

Ian nodded fervently. "Sure is, Ma."

Squall's eyebrows shot up into his hairline. "What?"

"Oh, back in the day, I told all of our members to call me Mother," Thetis said dismissively. She hugged MacGill hard. "It's been a long time."

_What is WRONG with people_? Squall thought disbelievingly.

"I'll put a pot of tea on. Or would you prefer coffee, Lieutenant?" Thetis asked.

"It really doesn't much matter."

As she bustled to the kitchen, Ian whispered, "My own ma stepped out. As far as mothers go, Thetis was it for me."

"Huh," was all that Squall said.

"She kept trying to straighten me out. It never really worked, but you know, it's cool that she actually tried."

Squall raised an eyebrow at him again. "She tried to get you to go to rehab?"

Ian smirked. "Told you it didn't work."

Squall snorted and turned around. "You know, you _should_ try it."

"Nah, I don't need that shit."

"Do you take sugar in your tea, Ian?" Thetis called from the kitchen.

"No," MacGill called back.

Squall looked over his shoulder at him. "You drink tea?"

"Every now and then."

Squall conjured up the mental image of the tattooed and grungy Ian drinking from a dainty teacup with his pinky sticking out. He wrinkled his nose.

Thetis came out of the kitchen, bearing a silver tray with three teacups on it. "How would you like your tea, Lieutenant?"

"Skip the tea and tell me why I'm here," Squall snapped. He was far too moody to think about being polite.

There was a moment of surprised silence. "You know, you're being pissier than usual," MacGill remarked. "Still ticked about Heartilly?"

"MacGill, shut up."

"What's this about Heartilly?" a curious Thetis asked.

"Nothing. Shut up, MacGill," Squall warned.

"Heartilly's his aide," MacGill explained to Thetis. "His _hot_ aide…"

"Ian, shut_ up_!"

"I've met her," Thetis said, grinning over her teacup. "I thought she was delightful."

"I s'pose Squall thinks so, too. And I can only assume that the alcohol was…flowing _freely_ that night…ow!" Ian yelped as Squall gave him an elbow to the ribs.

Thetis laughed gaily. "Oh, Ian, let's stop tormenting him for now. There's nothing worse than a scorned lover…"

MacGill smirked. "Is that what it is, Squall? Are you a scorned lover?"

"You know, seeing as I'm not on duty, I could kill you and get away with it," Squall said sourly. "Will you two stop being idiots and get to the actual point?"

"Ma's far from being an idiot," MacGill said, with an almost childish loyalty.

_Jesus Christ_, Squall thought in disgust. He had never seen MacGill this close to anybody. He definitely liked the sketchy drug-dealer better.

"Actually," Thetis said, with a sad smile on her face. "My idiocy is what I brought you here for." She set her tea cup down, where it delicately clattered on the wooden coffee table. "I got a call from Asher two days ago."

Squall snapped to attention at once. Ian gaped and said, "Are you for real?"

Thetis winced. "Yes, unfortunately."

"What'd he say?" Squall demanded sharply.

Thetis's gaze was fixed on the table. "Fancy a man leaving you for years and not even bothering to ask you how you are when he finally calls!" she sniffed. Her voice was laced with indignant sadness. She looked at Squall expectantly.

"Jesus," Squall hissed. "Fine, that sucks, okay? But I need you to give me details here. This could be important. Was it Ring-related?"

Satisfied, Thetis continued. "No, it wasn't. It was about Tristan, our son. We talked about all our fond memories of him. What a brilliant and lovely boy he had been."

"This is past tense," Squall interrupted.

"Hm?"

"You're giving me past tense. What happened to Tristan?"

Thetis's frail hands were quivering slightly, as was her lower lip. "He's been missing for weeks. Asher thinks he's dead. My baby."

"What do you want me to do?" Squall asked hesitantly. Thetis had an _I-have-a-bothersome-favor-to-ask-of-you_ look on her face.

Thetis blinked. "I want you to find him. You're a murder cop, you can find out what happened. I know you can. I have _absolute_ faith in you."

_Figures_. "It's not as simple as whether or not you have _faith_ in me," he said, a little harsher than he meant to. "I don't even know where he is. He may be somewhere where I don't have any jurisdiction. I'm sure that there'll be people who'll work hard on this, if you just tell them."

"But not as hard as you'll work, Lieutenant! I've seen you on a case - you're unstoppable! I want that," Thetis said eagerly.

_Hmph. You should see how hot I'm doing on this case. Not._

"I think you should do it," Ian agreed, nodding fervently. "Close it once and for all."

"Ian, shut up."

"I'm just _saying_…"

Squall stood up quickly, almost upending the whole tiny coffee table. "Look. I'm _flattered_ that you invited me to point fun at my social life and to ask me about a guy who disappeared into thin air. Really. But I've got things to do."

And with that, he stalked out of Thetis's fancy living room and slammed the front door shut. _And I thought I couldn't be more of an ass…_

MacGill and Thetis were silent after he left. But suddenly, MacGill started giggling.

"God, he is _so_ screwed," he said between laughs.

Thetis merely stared at the doorframe, feeling a confusing mixture of pity and disappointment. There was a tiny smile of understanding on her lips. "He really loved her, didn't he?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm starting to think so."

"Well," she said, placing her chin in her hands and remembering being young and in love with a man who could be anywhere on the Earth. For some reason, she was very glad to hear that.

* * *

_She_ was waiting for him when he got back to the station. She was sitting on his desk, her legs swinging aimlessly in space. The fact that her legs didn't even reach the floor made his heart hurt.

When she saw him, she slid off the desk, business as usual. "We've got nothing on the phone so far, as of an hour ago. Raijin's still manning the ED."

"Yeah," Squall said distractedly. Her hair was deviating from her ponytail in wispy tendrils that told him of her stress. "Uh…the exam?"

She rubbed the corner of her eye. "Yeah, what about it?"

_Stop making me spell it out for you!_ "How was it?"

"Fine. Is that all?" Acting indifferent was harder than it looked, Rinoa thought. She wanted to make a comment about how Squall's haircut was so crappy that it was cute. But he had a dangerous expression on his face, a combination of exhausted and irritated.

_She's not telling me everything_, Squall thought. _Why does it bother me so much that she's not telling me things_? He felt like kicking himself. "That's all."

As he turned to go, Rinoa suddenly said, "Wait."

He stopped in his tracks. He wanted her to say something real. Something that the old Rinoa would have said, despite the futility of it all.

She pressed a folded slip of white paper into his hand. "I found this in my house this morning. I thought I should tell you."

He unfolded it and bile rose in his throat immediately. "_Shit_, Heartilly!"

"What? What's the matter?"

"God-fucking-damn it. You have no idea what this means," he barked. Panic set in, making his insides fizz.

Squall had only seen something like this once in his life. It was the word "TRUTH" in black bold letters, forming a circle in the middle of the piece of paper.

* * *

Damn! A combination of junior year and writer's block made this chapter extremely difficult. I'm sorry if it doesn't measure up to expectations, just know that I'm under pressure. The next chapter will be loads easier to write, because it's gonna be more exciting!

So yeah. What does the note mean? Tune in next time.

Ciao


	18. My Sweetest Downfall

**Disclaimer**: I have not picked up ownership of Square in the middle of this story.

**Chapter Warnings**: Violence and swearing.

**Chapter Summary**: Squall suffers a conflict of interests as the BPD approaches the final confrontation.

**Author's Note**: I believe I confused most of my readers. The note that was delivered to Rinoa's house didn't say anything, it just had the symbol on it. Just to clear things up.

* * *

_You are my sweetest downfall_

_I loved you first, I loved you first._

_Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth._

_I have to go, I have to go._

_Your hair was long when we first met._

-"Samson" by Regina Spektor

* * *

**The Force**

**Chapter Eighteen**

"So let me get this straight. You think this means that they're targeting Officer Heartilly."

Quistis was staring at him over her glasses, and Squall just wanted to tear that doubtful look right off of her face.

"I _know_ this means that they're targeting Officer Heartilly," he corrected.

"Forgive me for asking, but…how can you possibly be sure of this?"

Squall's impatience flared up. He narrowed his eyes. "You _really_ want to doubt my experience on this?" he demanded.

Quistis seemed to realize what she had just said and backtracked. "I suppose not. Well, what's your plan, then?"

Squall didn't actually have a plan. But Quistis didn't wait for him to speak.

"In my opinion, the best course of action would be to set a trap involving Officer Heartilly herself. You and your team will coordinate a dragnet and apprehend the Ring members that arrive for Heartilly."

"That sounds like a good idea," Rinoa agreed.

"Wait, _what_? You're suggesting that we use her as bait," Squall said disbelievingly. In what sick universe was this a good idea?

Quistis put her fingertips together and cocked her head to the side. "Well," she said. "I suppose you could phrase it that way. Do you have an objection to that, Lieutenant?"

"You're suggesting that we take an investigative aide and use her as bait in a highly dangerous situation. She hasn't even made detective yet and has no undercover experience. Why is this even under _consideration_?"

Quistis delicately raised an eyebrow. "You think it's a bad idea?"

"I think it's a horrible idea."

"Glad you've made your opinion known, Lieutenant. But I think we should ask if Officer Heartilly has any objections." She turned to Rinoa. "Officer?"

Squall turned to give Rinoa a _"say YES, damn it!_" look, but it didn't have the desired effect.

"No, I think it's a good idea," Rinoa asserted. "And this way, I _can_ get some undercover experience."

"Good. I'm going to meet with your team to organize this, Lieutenant. Meet in my office again at ten. Dismissed."

Rinoa nodded, turned on her heel, and strode out of the office. Squall was right on her heels.

"You have no clue what you're getting yourself into," he hissed. "You know what that symbol on the note means? It means they've got every intent to kill you within the next 24 hours."

She turned back around and stared him right in the eye. "I don't need you to take care of me. I don't. And for your information, I know perfectly well what I'm getting myself into. If I didn't think that it would close this case, I wouldn't do it. I'm not stupid."

"You're being _incredibly_ stupid."

She glared at him and just walked away. She usually wasn't this non-confrontational. He was hoping that she would get in his face and call him a jackass or something.

"You're worried about her."

Squall turned around to see a stern-looking Quistis with her arms crossed. "Might I remind you of our earlier conversation? You were supposed to end it," she reprimanded.

He rolled his eyes. "It's dead and buried, I assure you. But I'm still responsible for her. I'm allowed to get mad when she makes a poor decision. _You're_ the one who stuck me with her."

Quistis studied his face and snorted. "But _I'm _not the one who made you fall for her. Good thing you're a better cop than you are a liar, Lieutenant." She retreated back to her office before Squall could come up with a good comeback.

Squall made a face. _Is it that obvious_? He had forgotten about the apparent omniscience that came with being the Balamb Chief of Police. He wouldn't be making that mistake again anytime soon.

He _was_ worried, and with good reason. He hadn't the faintest clue why people weren't taking this seriously, because this was the furthest thing possible from a joke. And he couldn't escape the sinking feeling that every single one of these circumstances came about because of him.

* * *

"This will be our course of action," Quistis informed Squall, Rinoa, Zell, Raijin, and Seifer in the conference room. "Lieutenant Leonhart, Lieutenant Almasy, Raijin, and I will remain in the surveillance van, monitoring Officer Heartilly for her safety."

She gave Squall an especially stern look when she said that and continued. "Officer Dincht will be remain hidden while stationed at another point in Officer Heartilly's house. Once the suspect enters, Dincht will give the signal to continue, at which point Lieutenant Almasy and Lieutenant Leonhart will enter the building."

Quistis nodded at both Lieutenants. "I assume you know where to go from there."

Squall determinedly avoided looking at Seifer as he nodded, silently vowing to be the one who got there first.

"Alright, then. Questions?"

Rinoa rose her hand timidly. "Well, um…besides being the bait and all…what exactly am I supposed to do?"

Quistis smiled wolfishly. "You just said it. You're our key to making sure our suspect shows up. Believe me, if all goes well, you won't be in harm's way at all."

_Wrong, _Squall thought. This flimsy plan wouldn't foil any self-respecting Ring member any day. He felt like some sort of doomsday prophet, pessimistic to the last minute. _The end is near!_ The corner of his mouth upturned.

"Man!" Zell exclaimed to Squall when Quistis had dismissed them. "I've never gotten to do this kind of stuff before! Seifer just puts me on the grunt work. I wish _Quistis _could have been my lieutenant…"

Squall kept walking, absently wondering why Zell was even talking to him in the first place.

"But _man_, I'm pumped. This is the kind of stuff I wanted to do in the force from the beginning. You know?"

"Nnnnyeah…"

Zell twittered on and on until Squall managed to shake him off at the bullpen. Quistis was waiting at his desk with a folder. _Damn it, is she following me?_

"I just thought I'd let you know that you have the privilege to see Heartilly's exam results, seeing as you were her supervisor," she told him. "If you're so inclined."

Squall eyed the folder warily. "You're gonna make me break the news if she fails it, aren't you?"

"Clever boy." She held out the folder to him.

He hesitated, then took the folder that held the product of 3 months of work, tears, and sexual tension.

_Well,_ he thought. _Looks like this is it._

He opened the folder and removed the solitary piece of paper.

* * *

"This is the audio device, it goes in your ear. We'll use it to relay commands in your ear, but don't respond back unless we ask you a question," Squall said to Rinoa, holding up what looked like a hearing aid. "The video surveillance has that covered. The ED's planting a camera into your room."

"Okay."

"This monitors your heart rate," Squall explained, holding up a tiny black device.

"In case… I have a heart attack?" Rinoa asked incredulously.

"It's just procedure, okay? Go with it. The battery pack goes in your pocket, and this piece attaches over your heart, like this." He demonstrated on himself. "But under the clothes. It's got an adhesive on it, so it should stick. Here." He handed it to her.

She promptly turned her back to him, yanked the front of her shirt up, and got to work fastening the heart monitor. He flushed slightly even though he couldn't see anything he wasn't supposed to. Knowing his luck, somebody would walk in right now.

"How does this even work, anyway?" she asked him, still trying to fasten it on her skin.

"Ah…" he said, ripping his eyes away from her back. "It's got a long-distance wireless signal. It's going to transmit to a heart monitor back in the van."

After Rinoa finished, she turned back around. "Okay. I've got a monitor under my bra. Now what?"

"That's it. You're all wired up. Now you wait here while Quistis gets the rest of the team set up," he said shortly, turning away.

She watched him leave, him and his scowl and his horrid haircut. She wondered why he had never looked her in the eye during the whole little lecture.

_I bet he knows my exam results_, an ugly voice in Rinoa's head whispered. _I bet I failed them._

She shook herself. More nervousness was the _last_ thing she needed right now. Her heart rate was already starting to shoot up. _Man, I bet I failed the interrogation procedure section…shut up!!!_

Zell peeked in through the door. He was in full gear, complete with flak jacket and shining black boots. "Ready, Rin?"

"Wow. Look at you. All suited up."

"Yup!" There was a gigantic grin on the blonde's face, making him look utterly un-coplike. "The suspect's most likely to be armed, so you know…" he said, gesturing to his bulletproof vest.

"Oh…yeah," Rinoa said, trying to keep her voice calm. "You, ah…feeling nervous?"

"Me? Oh, no! I've been waiting for something like this, man! I am so pumped. This guy is going _down_," Zell exclaimed.

"Yeah," Rinoa answered, discreetly peering down her shirt to make sure that the device was still in place. "God, I hope so."

* * *

To the residents of Rinoa's neighborhood, nothing seemed out of the ordinary that night. The usual buzz of insects and people wasn't interrupted, and no one would have suspected that a life-or-death operation was underway.

The black surveillance van by the curb wasn't nearly big enough to fit Quistis, Squall, Seifer, Raijin, and a whole hub of monitors. Squall, who was as claustrophobic as they came, was just about ready to jump out of his skin.

"This better work," he growled under his breath as Raijin elbowed him in the face for the fifth time.

Quistis, who had almost super-human hearing, whipped around and gave him a severe frown. "Watch your tone, Lieutenant."

Squall just wrinkled his nose as he fixed his eyes on one of the monitors. The thin green line measuring Rinoa's heartbeat oscillated pleasantly, beeping reassuringly.

Seifer picked up the walkie-talkie. "Status report, Dincht," he barked.

Zell was perched on the landing of Rinoa's staircase. "Nothing so far. Both front and back entrances are secure."

Squall relayed the message to Rinoa's earpiece. "Status, Heartilly?"

"Um. Tired," the small voice replied back.

Squall sighed. "You're supposed to say if anything weird's going on," he said in a deadpan voice.

"No," she replied serenely. The camera planted in her room showed that she was merely lounging on her bed with the earpiece snugly lodged in her ear, waiting for further instructions. "No, everything's fine."

He nodded and was about to turn the communicator off when she spoke again. "Wait. Somebody talk to me. I'm so bored. Please."

There was a hint of the old Rinoa showing, like the sun peeking out from behind the hills. "You saw my exam results, didn't you, Squall?" she accused.

"No," he lied.

Thankfully for Squall, Quistis interrupted. "Stay steady, Officer. According to Lieutenant Leonhart's projection, the suspect's estimated time of arrival is twelve o'clock midnight. Present time is 11:54. Hang in there."

"Okay," she answered. Squall's eyes were still glued to the heart monitor. If his own heartbeat was being measured on it, the green line would be bouncing off the walls. He knew in his gut that something was going to go wrong. _They are smarter than this…_

Some primal instinct made him want to say something that would soothe both her and himself. Something like, "_Hey, don't worry, things'll be fine._" But that didn't seem to be in his programming.

He leaned back and let his brain work at top speed. Where would the suspect enter the house? No way to tell for sure. But based on prior experience, through the basement or a back door.

Which Ring member would this be? Tim? The Boss? Someone else?

It would be the Boss, he decided. They were using Rinoa. They were pulling out the big guns. This would be the biggest blow yet.

He sincerely regretted getting her into this.

_First the kids, now her._ He vaguely wondered how many casualties would be cleared out of the way before the Ring was finished with him.

The minutes slowly crawled by. The ticking of Seifer's watch was getting louder and more annoying with each passing second.

"Time," Quistis commanded sharply.

"12:14," Seifer answered immediately.

"They've broken pattern," she muttered to Squall.

_What, it's my fault_? he thought irritably. _It's my fault they've smartened up_? _It's a quarter after twelve, for God's sake…_

"They're here," he answered. "They're just waiting."

He clenched and unclenched his fists, wishing that he didn't feel so helpless. _They're not touching her. They're not going to lay a fucking hand on her if I can help it._

Another agonizing stretch of time passed. The grainy image on the camera showed that Rinoa was dozing on her bed. When Quistis asked for the time again, Seifer gave it to her: 12:57.

She sighed heavily. "Perhaps another night--"

But then they heard it. The sharp, whip-cracking noise. A gunshot.

The van shuddered as the four members of the BPD suddenly snapped to attention and hurried to the communicator.

"Jesus," Seifer hissed as he snatched the walkie-talkie. "Dincht! Dincht, what the _hell_ was that? _You were not supposed to use maximum force_."

The walkie-talkie crackled and buzzed before they heard Zell's voice. "That wasn't…me…"

"What?"

They heard heavy breathing and a grunt. "Officer down…officer…down…"

Quistis shot up immediately and grabbed the radio. "Go assist Detective Dincht, Almasy," she ordered. She started yelling into the radio as Seifer slammed out of the van and started sprinting towards the building. "All detectives at station, report for back-up! Detective Dincht is down, suspect is armed and dangerous, Officer Heartilly in immediate danger…"

_Rinoa_.

Squall punched the button on the communicator. "Heartilly, get out of there! _Now_!" he shouted.

Rinoa's heart rate shot up, and rapidly rose. Squall felt his matching hers.

His blood curdled when a figure wandered past the rightmost frame of the video image. His back was to the camera, so Squall couldn't make out a face. Rinoa was pretending to be asleep.

The "play dead" reflex, Squall thought faintly. Rinoa was hoping that it would save her life.

But it was too late. The familiar, silky voice reverberated through the whole van. "Well, I'd love to chat, Ms. Heartilly, but it seems we have some unwanted listeners…"

The last thing that Squall saw was the man raising a gun to the camera and pulling the trigger. He heard an explosive crackling that meant that the earpiece communicating device had been disconnected.

Before Squall could even think about what he was doing, he had leapt to his feet.

"_Lieutenant, stay where you are_!" Quistis shrieked.

But he was already out of the van and into the street, running as fast as his legs could carry him. He had never run this fast before in his life. He was fucking _flying_. _God. I bet I'm fired now. I'm SO fired._

But for now, he could really care less.

He was running so fast that his feet were barely touching the ground, and it still wasn't fast enough for him. He could imagine her helplessly splayed out on the bed, a bleeding hole in her forehead…_NO!_

He ripped his gun out of the holster as he exploded through the front door. Seifer was kneeling next to a bleeding Zell at the top of the stairs. Squall tore right past them.

Rinoa, using her shoulder to knock down the back door of a church and comically falling down. Rinoa, cracking up at the fact that Tim Monroe was a dry-cleaner. Rinoa, kissing the tip of his nose in that vile orange car.

She couldn't be dead. She was only 25. She wanted to be a detective. She _loved_ him, or at least she used to.

Her room was the third on the left, he remembered. His legs were burning, but he didn't lose the pace. _Please let her be alright. I swear, I'll never treat her like crap again…_

It was like one of those horrid optical illusion nightmares where the hall stretches longer and longer and the door is impossible to reach.

But when he finally _did_ reach the door, he didn't even bother with the formalities. Didn't even bother to give the suspect a warning, didn't bother to announce his rank and purpose. He just kicked the door in. "Police! Stop where you are."

Rinoa was still on the bed, unharmed, but with a gun pressed to her temple. The owner of the gun still had his back to Squall, but cocked his head at the sound of the detective's voice. "Well. Took you long enough, Lieutenant," he drawled in that usual smooth voice.

Squall's breath escaped in a slow hiss as the Boss turned around. The Boss had a shining bald head, a steel tooth that showed when he smirked, and was clad in dark blue pinstripes. _Cocky bastard, he thought this was going to be a fucking cakewalk…_

And the worst part was that Squall _knew_ who he was. That horrible feeling of "_Shit, I should've known"_ was grating on Squall's nerves. _How could I be so stupid?_

There was a smug, satisfied look in the Boss's silver eyes. His mother's eyes.

"Tristan Doyle," Squall said, trying to steady his shaking gun hand. "It's been a long time."

* * *

Rinoa had known that she was in trouble even before she heard Squall's frantic yelling in her earpiece. When she heard the gunshot, she muffled a scream in her pillow. Zell. He got Zell. And he was coming for her.

She silently rejoiced when Squall had knocked the door aside, anger etched on his face. She recognized fear there, too. _Goddamn, he's afraid…_

And now, she stared up the barrel of the gun that was being pointed at her. _The bullet's a .22 short,_ she thought dully, remembering Squall's analysis. _Low recoil, low noise. And it's going to be embedded in my head in a matter of minutes…_

His name was Tristan Doyle, she thought. Thetis's son. Disappeared off the face of the earth with his father years and years ago…and now he was here, smiling like a cat at Squall. The lamp light glinted off of his bare head.

"Well, look at you," he mused as he glanced at Squall from head to toe. "My father should have had you killed when he had the chance…but I believe in finishing what I start. We're very different people, my father and I."

"Drop the gun, Tristan." Squall had never been good at negotiations.

Tristan's eyebrow winged up and he cocked the gun that was pointed at Rinoa. "I don't believe you're in any good position to bargain, Lieutenant," he said pleasantly. Rinoa squeezed her eyes shut.

Squall's heart was hammering so hard that he was certain that it was going to break through his ribcage at any moment. "You touch her, and I'll make sure that they won't be able to identify your body," he snarled in a low, level voice.

Tristan smiled delightedly. "Not very professional behavior, Lieutenant."

"You think I'm fucking joking?"

"Not in the least. However, the only demands made tonight will be mine. Lay down your weapon or she dies." Tristan could hardly contain his glee. He had him now. He _had _him.

Squall had to think of something _now_. "You don't want her. You want me. So stop being a fucking coward and face me." His gun didn't move, and his arm was beginning to ache.

There was a gleam in Tristan's mad eyes. "You'd die for her?" he asked softly.

Rinoa's eyes opened and they fixed on Squall. Squall didn't look at her, but he could feel those eyes searing him like a laser.

"It doesn't matter if I'd die for her or not. It's not her you want." _Damn you, you will NOT make me weak._

"Oh, it matters," Tristan answered. "So say it, and I'll release her. You'd die for her?"

The offer hung tantalizingly in the air between them.

Squall finally allowed himself to look her in the eye. And he gave her a sly smile. _I'll give up my dignity for you._

She shook her head vehemently, knowing what he was about to do. _Don't do this. It's not worth it._

"I'd die for her," he agreed. "But," he said, turning his head to look at Tristan. "I'd also kill for her. Which is unfortunate for you."

"Well," Tristan said after a moment's silence. "That is fan_tastic_." He turned his arm so that the gun was aiming at Squall.

_Two shots. One of us dies. This is it_. Squall cocked the gun, hearing the menacing click. He stood his ground.

Rinoa didn't seem to want to accept those odds. As soon as she was out of range, she jackknifed up and kicked Doyle hard in the stomach. The gun fell from his hand. As Tristan grunted and crumpled, Squall leapt. In that moment, he was not fully human. He was part beast, part ruthless cop machine, and part terrified child from 19 years ago. The carnal urge to _hurt_ was thumping in his bloodstream. His weapon forgotten, he felt himself plunging his fists into any part of Tristan's anatomy that he could reach.

When Tristan started fighting back, it was unexpected and Squall was unprepared. Tristan's right foot, elegantly clad in a leather designer shoe, crashed into Squall's ribs with unprecedented force. Squall heard a cracking sound that he _knew_ couldn't be good as he fell against the wall.

Rinoa jumped off the bed and tried to bodily restrain Doyle, without much success. Tristan whipped around and struck her on the side of the head with the butt of his gun. Animalistic rage flared up in Squall as he saw her fall to the floor and lie there motionless.

Tristan turned to Squall, his nose bleeding from one of the detective's punches, and aimed the gun again.

Squall ducked and rammed his shoulder into the older man's chest, a disarming technique that he had learned in Academy. They were both bowled over and Squall briefly saw stars when his head knocked hard against the floor.

They both scrambled for their guns, and Squall reached his first. But Tristan knocked it aside and grabbed Squall's throat with both hands.

"And now, goodnight, dear Astyanax," Tristan whispered harshly as his grip tightened and Squall struggled to draw in a breath.

Squall's vision was beginning to darken, his head starting to swim. He was gravely outmatched. Tristan was taller, heavier, stronger. His memories were starting to cut through the darkness, flashing like neon lights.

Ellone, with two halves of an ice-cream sandwich and a sweet smile. _Hey, baby bro, want a piece?_

Quistis, proudly handing a shining gold badge to him. _Congratulations, Detective, it was a delight training you…_

Rinoa, lying in a hospital bed with stitches on her shoulder. _I forgive you…_

_I'm not going to let it end like this._ _He might be stronger, but I'm willing to bet that he's not as smart._

Summoning all of his strength, Squall scissored up and kneed his attacker in the groin. Tristan howled and the iron grip on Squall's throat was gone. "You should've come quietly, Doyle," he snarled, rubbing his throat and tasting blood and bile.

Tristan bared his teeth in a bestial grin and proceeded to slam Squall's head hard against the wall. "But I wouldn't have had nearly as much fun," he husked. "And I don't intend to come at all." He punched Squall once in the face and Squall felt blood drip slowly into his eyes.

There were more memories and more hits. Gerald Franklin, shouting and swearing as Squall hit him over the head with a fencing foil. Tristan plowing his fist into Squall's stomach. His mother frowning slightly at a gold necklace and saying, "_Really, Laguna, you don't have to get me all these gifts,"_ and his father grinning and answering, "_But they look so nice on you…"_

Squall's vision was an explosion of colors and memories as he traded even more blows with Tristan and felt tiny bursts of agonizing pain._ Watching a captured butterfly flutter around in a jar. Crouching in an alleyway and almost bleeding to death. Seeing the light leave Gerald Franklin's eyes as he shot him._

Rinoa moaned and stirred from the ground, blood seeping out from her hairline. She heard muffled blows and yells and opened her eyes. She let out a shriek when she saw Tristan kick Squall in the ribs again. Even though her head was throbbing horribly, she sprang into the fray again through some odd protective instinct. She threw herself over Squall's body, trying vainly to shield him. _I'd die for you, too. Looks like we'll both get our way._

"Isn't this sweet," Tristan said, chuckling. He was a ghastly sight, covered with bruises and blood. His pinstriped suit was terribly stained. He knelt to the floor and picked up his gun. "But I have no objection to…"

A shot rang out and Tristan was knocked back with the force of the bullet. Squall's shot had caught him in the right hand. The tremor had shaken them both considerably.

Squall stood up, taking labored breaths and feeling the spurts of pain. Tristan was slumped against the wall. "You'll never take me in," Tristan threatened. "I'll kill you…"

Squall crouched by Doyle and smirked. "Unless you've miraculously become ambidextrous, I don't think you're really in that position." He pistol-whipped Doyle, who was then out cold.

"Whoops," Squall said mildly. "I almost forgot." He reared back and gave Tristan an almighty kick in the stomach. "That's from MacGill."

Rinoa was silent, staring at Tristan's motionless form. Finally, she let out a ragged gasp. "God. It's over. We did it," she marveled.

Squall closed his eyes and let the resolution wash over him in waves. Over and done with. Success. 45 children safe and sound. The end. The words hummed pleasantly in his brain.

Rinoa suddenly felt the tears rising. She looked at the ceiling, trying to hold them back. But no, she wasn't going to be able to stop them. "Oh my God…" she croaked.

Squall crossed the room in two strides and let her bury her face in the base of his neck. "It's okay. Go ahead."

She shuddered and let it come. "Oh my God! _I was so scared!_ He got Zell. Oh my God. I thought he was going to kill me. And _you_…" she sobbed, her tears soaking through Squall's torn collar.

"I know," he said, his voice soft in a way that he never imagined it could be. He was terrified himself, he realized. He was pale and shaking badly, and he didn't think his pulse would ever slow down again. "But we're okay."

She felt him shivering against her and looked up at him. "I've never seen you like this. You were so nervous," she said anxiously.

"Try petrified," he said, trying to smile with a split lip. "When the video and audio went out, I thought you were…"

She threw her arms around him again, but quickly stepped back when he hissed in pain. "God, you're hurt. We need to get you some help…"

Squall let out a sigh, feeling the ache in his ribs every time he took a breath. "I'm fine. Stay with him, Heartilly," he managed to say. "But I doubt he'll give you any trouble. I'm going to tell Almasy."

He walked slowly and painfully out of the room and down the hall. Seifer was still there, but Zell was gone.

"Suspect is incapacitated," he said shortly, gripping the banister for support. His legs were getting weaker and weaker.

Seifer glanced up at him. "You look like shit, Leonhart. Get yourself to the damn hospital, will you?"

"I'm not going anywhere until the report's filed," Squall spat. "What happened to Dincht?"

Seifer frowned. "Got caught in the hip. Right under the vest. Stupid son of a bitch. Tried to be a hero and look where it got him."

Squall saw concern in Seifer's scowl. _Seifer worrying about someone. I'll be damned._

Seifer quickly changed the subject. "How the hell did he get in, anyway?"

"I don't even know. Bastard probably waltzed right in under our noses." Squall scrubbed some of the blood off of his face. It wasn't all his, which was a relief. He wondered just how messed up his face looked.

Seifer's look of distaste wasn't a good indication. "We'll have to cover that topic in questioning, then. I'll get some restraints from the van."

"Lovely," Squall said thickly. His vision was starting to blur. He headed back to Rinoa's room.

"Leonhart," Seifer said suddenly.

Squall turned back around. "Yeah?"

"Excellent work."

_What happened to you?!_ Squall just said, "Um…you too,"and turned back around. _Seifer Almasy, being a decent person. What the hell…_

Rinoa was waiting for him when he got back. "Sit down," she instructed, pointing rigidly to the bed.

She was starting to get that "don't mess with me" tone in her voice. Squall was hesitant. "I'll get blood all over your bed."

"I'll live. Sit."

He rolled his eyes dramatically and sat. She sat next to him and started to inspect the damage. His face was a mess of bruises, his lip was leaking blood, and his nose looked broken. She lifted his shirt and frowned at the bruises that decorated his ribcage. "This looks like it hurts like hell…"

"It doesn't…_ow_," he murmured as she prodded one of the bruises.

"Uh huh," she said, raising an eyebrow. "_Real_ painless."

"Hey, just because I'm not whining all the time…"

"Okay, never mind!" she interrupted, sensing that he was about to make fun of her. She smiled wickedly at him. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"Oh, ha ha…hey, cut it out."

With miraculous timing, the door opened. "God, _God_! Will you get a _room_?" Seifer was grimacing in the doorway at the sight of Rinoa pressing her lips against Squall's bare chest.

Embarrassment washed over Squall as he yanked down his shirt. _Shoot me now, he's going to lord this over me for years…_

Seifer knelt down and cuffed the still-unconscious Tristan. "Okay, I'm going to pretend that didn't even happen, for the sake of my scarred mind and your reputation. Anyway," he said to Rinoa. "Take the Lieutenant to the hospital. Do it bodily if you have to, I don't care. Just make sure he gets there. I'll file the report and list him as arresting officer. Go."

"Since when do you think you can order around my aide?" Squall shot back. "I'm staying."

"You know," Rinoa said hastily. "I agree. I think some medical attention is _exactly_ what Lieutenant Leonhart needs."

"You guys can forget it, I'm fine. Hey!" he protested as Rinoa slung his arm around her shoulder and acted as his human crutch.

"Let's go. Don't make me carry you," she warned. "Because I will. Right in front of everyone." She smiled at the look of distaste on Squall's face.

"Taking advantage of my crippled state. You're horrible. And what about you?" he complained. "You're hurt, too."

"Yeah," she agreed. "So why don't we help each other?"

Squall knew what she really meant: _Why don't we both assume responsibility in this relationship_?

"Yeah," he said finally. "Yeah, I suppose we could do that."

They both hobbled out the door, like participants in a three-legged race. Beaten and battered though they were, they still grinned at each other through the blood and bruises as they headed out into the dawn.

* * *

Well, that's the penultimate chapter. (Second to last, for the vocabulary-challenged in all of us.) The final chapter should come sometime soon, and I sincerely hope you guys enjoyed this one. I enjoyed writing it, of course. Oh, and please leave a review or two.

Later,

-peridotaurora


	19. A Certain Romance

**Disclaimer**: I have run out of clever things to say. I don't own ANY of Square's properties.

**Chapter Warnings**: Swearing

**Author's Note: **Alright, I decided that this can't be the last chapter. It was simply getting to be incredibly long, so I'll include an epilogue after this. This chapter is also very long. I don't know if that's a good thing or not. Enjoy!

**The Force **

**Chapter Nineteen

* * *

**

For someone so anti-social, Squall Leonhart certainly had a lot of visitors during his stay at the Balamb General Hospital. Almost the whole Balamb Police Department appeared to even get a glimpse of their finest, though injured, detective.

To most, it would have been flattering. But Squall just felt annoyed by it. He didn't even want to be here in the first place, and now he felt like some sort of zoo animal.

To make matters worse, Zell was his roommate. Getting reconstructive surgery for a partially shattered hipbone didn't seem to make him any less talkative. In fact, Squall had the suspicion that it did just the opposite.

"_Maaan_, he really did a number on you! Sheesh, I can just _imagine_ what _he_ looks like if you got a hold of him! That is _so_ hardcore."

Staying patient as humanly possible, Squall tried to get something remotely useful out of him. "Dincht, you're gonna need to tell me how he got in."

"Aw, c'mon, save that for the interrogation…" Zell said dismissively.

_"Zell_."

"Fine. I actually don't remember all too great. He didn't come through the front or back entrances, I know that much." Zell paused to think. "…He came from _behind_ me. Damn coward. If he'd faced me like a _man_, I would've given him what for, you know?"

_Jesus, up the dosage on my painkillers now…_Squall thought as Zell yammered on about how he would have _flattened_ Doyle if it had been a _fair fight_. "Okay, shut up. Describe to me exactly what happened in there."

"Jeez, what am I, a freakin' suspect?"

"Answer the question." Squall shifted, grimacing slightly as his taped ribs ached.

Zell glared at him reproachfully before sighing and looking up at the ceiling. "Fine."

"Start from the beginning."

* * *

Rinoa was sitting on a stiff waiting room chair with an ice pack pressed to her head. It had been throbbing ever since Doyle had pistol-whipped her, and she had been sitting for about half an hour with her eyes squeezed shut.

"How are you feeling?"

Rinoa cracked open an eye. To her surprise, Quistis was crouched in front of her, an unusually benevolent smile on her otherwise stern features.

"Um. Can't complain, I guess," she lied.

"And Lieutenant Leonhart?"

"Haven't seen him yet, I just got discharged. I'm waiting for this headache to pass," Rinoa explained.

"I wouldn't count on that anytime soon, based on the extent of your injury," Quistis said skeptically, her eyes flicking upward to Rinoa's forehead.

Rinoa shrugged and pulled the ice pack away. "In that case, I suppose I'll go see him now and check up on him." She stood to go.

"I thought I should let you know that I'm giving Lieutenant Leonhart a 40-day suspension from the force," Quistis said quietly.

Rinoa's eyebrows shot up and she whirled around. "What? Why?"

"He disobeyed a direct order, Officer Heartilly. He ran when I said stay. It's a punishable offense."

"He saved my life in there," Rinoa said stubbornly. "I don't know what would have happened if--"

"Police work is full of 'what-ifs'," Quistis remarked.

Rinoa stared at her. "Huh?"

Quistis turned around and smiled sadly. "Police work is all cause-and-effect. What if Tristan Doyle hadn't shot Officer Dincht? Then we wouldn't know that he had entered, and the danger would have increased tenfold. But poor Officer Dincht has to undergo a painful recovery. What if Lieutenant Leonhart had remained in the van when I instructed him to? Then you would certainly be dead, Officer Heartilly, and I would be to blame. But to judge on that basis would be hindsight bias. We can only take it as it comes. I can only judge Lieutenant Leonhart for what he did wrong. The odds can be quite overwhelming."

Rinoa kicked at the ground awkwardly. "It's not your fault," she managed to say.

"No," Quistis said, looking up again. "I suppose it's not. But I remained unharmed last night. It's only human of me to heap blame on myself, of course. However, Leonhart flouted police code, and must be punished accordingly."

Quistis straightened her suit jacket and strode into the hospital room, looking very authoritarian.

Rinoa sighed and started walking away. She didn't want to be there for that bit of bad news. To a seasoned and loyal cop like Squall, hearing the news of suspension would almost be worse than a death sentence.

To Rinoa's surprise, Seifer appeared from around the corner. "The Chief in there?" he asked, inclining his head towards the room.

"Yeah," Rinoa said morosely. "She's suspending him."

"I heard." Seifer pursed his lips and shrugged. "Sucks, 'cause he's probably the best damn cop we've got."

Genuinely surprised, Rinoa turned around and raised an eyebrow at him. Seifer smirked. "Don't get me wrong, he's an asshole and a poor excuse for a person. But as far as being a cop goes, he's got it down."

Rinoa grinned deviously. "That's beautiful, Lieutenant Almasy. Want me to pass on the message?"

"Not if you want to live, Heartilly. I just came here to tell him that our buddy Doyle saddled up with an expensive lawyer. He's pretty smart, so he'll lawyer up smart. It's gonna make interrogation a right pain in the ass."

"Sucks. And with the whole suspension thing…" Rinoa trailed off.

Seifer nodded, not bothering to finish the thought. "You know, I'm thinking of making you do it. The interrogation, I mean."

"_What_?" Rinoa didn't stop the horror from entering her voice. "No way."

"We'll see." The smirk was back on Seifer's face. "Anyway, the exam results are supposed to be up in about an hour. Better go check it out."

"Oh…" Rinoa said. In all the confusion, she had almost forgotten. "Listen, could you do me a favor?"

"Mmm…depends on what the favor is."

"Could you bring the results here to me? Because I…" Her voice fell and she stopped abruptly.

"Go on," Seifer said.

"I want him to be there when I read them," she muttered.

Seifer snorted. "Oh brother…"

"_Please_, Seifer? Please?"

"You want me to go over to the station and pick up _your_ results so Leonhart can hold your hand? Give me a _break_…" Seifer said disgustedly.

Rinoa tightened her lips and stomped away. "God, you'll never change!" she barked.

Seifer just grinned endearingly. "Well, isn't that a relief?"

* * *

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Leonhart. I had no choice." Quistis looked grim, but firm.

Squall's lips suddenly felt excruciatingly dry. "Suspended. For 40 days," he repeated dumbfounded. He could practically feel the blood leave his face.

"I'm sorry," Quistis said again, shaking her head. "It's the punishment for--"

"For _40 _days? _Jesus_, Quistis!" he yelled, bolting upright. "I _caught_ the guy! I don't catch him, and you're mad. Then I _do_ catch him, and you're mad! What do you _want_?!"

Quistis seemed slightly surprised. Squall had never yelled at her. But then again, she had never suspended him from the force before. _We all have our triggers._ "I'm not punishing you for apprehending a criminal," she corrected him. "I'm punishing you for showing a blatant disrespect for my authority."

Squall snorted and leaned back. "Right. And it would have fixed _everything_ if I had listened to you."

Quistis put her hands on her hips. "I'm not saying it would have. I just won't have you undermining me, Lieutenant, no matter the circumstances" She tipped her head to one side as she looked at her broken detective. "If there's one thing I'm guilty of, it's playing favorites. I always indulged you."

She trailed off, and she looked satisfied, as if she was an uncertain parent who had finally gotten the knack of disciplining her unruly child. She nodded once and strode out of the room, her work shoes making a clicking sound on the shiny hospital floor.

To Squall's surprise, the fury wasn't as big as he had expected. He just felt a sense of cold finality and sinking disappointment. He would be barred from the BPD for a month. He wouldn't have the chance to close the Doyle case. He wouldn't have the chance to see Rinoa.

He had forgotten that Zell was there until he heard him say, "_Whoa_. That sucks."

Squall just turned towards the wall. "Tch. You're telling me."

"We'll miss you," Zell offered sympathetically.

Squall looked back at Zell, who was wearing an expression of pure sincerity. "Huh?"

Zell thought for a minute, then shrugged. "Well, _I _will, at least. I can't speak for anyone else."

Squall looked down at his bruised and lacerated hands, unable to say anything. Zell would miss him, and Rinoa too. He would be missed. His absence would be _felt_.

It was probably the effect of the liberal dose of painkillers he was currently subsisting on, but the fact that people would miss him meant a lot.

* * *

"Two broken ribs, a broken nose, a concussion, massive internal bleeding, and a split lip. _Je-sus_! I'm surprised you're still conscious!"

Irvine was bent over, peering at the chart at the foot of Squall's bed. "Gotta hand it to you, Leonhart, you've got _balls_." Squall just rolled his eyes.

"Hey," Zell whined. "What about me?"

Irvine mimed waving dismissively. "You got shot in the hip, big deal. People can't stop talking about the guy who took _Doyle_ down!"

"Really?" Zell looked devastated.

Irvine sighed exasperatedly. "Joking, Zell. It's called joking. But unlike Leonhart here, you don't look like you got hit by a truck."

Squall winced. He hadn't had the opportunity to get a look at his face yet. But judging by how sore it felt and the aghast reactions of his visitors, he wasn't too excited to learn how his face looked. "You're too kind," he commented. He hated how faint the painkillers made his voice sound.

Irvine's cell phone rang, and he hastily excused himself to go into the hallway and take the call. "Bet it's from Selphie," Zell murmured, grinning.

"Why?" Squall asked.

Zell raised his eyebrows. "Didn't you hear? They're kind of going out now."

Squall could feel his eye twitching involuntarily again. "Oh."

"Yeah, they apparently got kind of drunk one night…"

"Zell, shut up," Squall ordered, covering his twitching eye with one hand.

"What about getting drunk?" a voice from the door asked. It was Rinoa, with her jacket slung over her arm, clutching a white envelope in her hand.

"Zell was just in the process of giving too much information," Squall said shortly.

"About Selphie and Irvine? You just heard about that now? You're out of the loop, Squall," Rinoa giggled.

"I'm okay with that."

She dropped the jacket and the envelope on a chair and came over to further inspect Squall's injuries. "Ouch," she remarked, when her eyes lingered on Squall's face.

"In a word, yes," Squall sighed. "Is it that bad?"

Rinoa hesitated, dug in her purse, and offered him her compact.

He took it in his uninjured hand and looked at his reflection. "Holy hell…"

His face was a swollen, black and blue mess. His lip was deeply split, and he doubted his nose would ever be the same. "Oh God, no wonder everybody's freaking out."

"The worst of it is bruising, but that'll go away. But the lip, though…that'll probably scar." He had such _nice_ lips when they weren't split and swollen, she mused wistfully.

"And everybody's going to be like, 'Oh my God, does that hurt?' I _hate _that," Squall said bitterly.

Zell watched the two of them with interest. He didn't seem so wound up when she was around. Zell got the feeling that if Squall's lip wasn't torn, he'd be smiling right now. Squall didn't even seem to mind it when Rinoa smoothed his hair. It seemed so effortless that it was truly shocking.

Rinoa gravitated towards the white envelope nervously. "I, um, they gave me the exam results. I was thinking maybe you could open them."

"Why?" Squall said.

"Because I'm nervous, okay?" Rinoa demanded. "I _really _want to know, but I'm scared."

"Look, no matter what, just know that we worked our asses off for this, okay? If you don't make it this time, we'll try for the next."

"I'm still scared," she insisted.

Squall sighed and held out a hand for the envelope. She sat at the foot of his bed, anxiously rocking back and forth.

Squall slit the envelope open and narrowed his eyes as he recited the letter. "Dear Miss Heartilly, after an extensive examination, you have placed fourth in your examination group, and will advance to First Grade Detective in one week's time blah blah blah…" he trailed off. He grinned at her, even though it hurt like hell to do so. "Nice one."

Rinoa's eyes were huge and her mouth was hanging open. "Really? _Fourth_?" She let out a little shriek and leapt off the bed. "Oh my God!"

Zell whooped appreciatively and pumped a fist into the air. "Go Rin!"

"Looks like you could've done better on Interrogation, Heartilly," Squall remarked, cutting through their loud celebrating.

Rinoa turned around and laughed. "Oh, please. I'm surprised I learned _anything_ about interrogation, after following _you_ around."

"Glad to see that you're so _grateful_ to me," Squall teased.

"Well, jeez, you know I am,"Rinoa huffed, flinging her arms around his neck, forgetting that he was injured.

"Hey, can we hold off on that?" Squall said hastily, grimacing. She was jostling his taped ribs a bit too much for his liking. She leaped away immediately, as if he had suddenly electrocuted her.

He nudged her with one hand. "So what's happening with Doyle? Did you get any news?"

Rinoa tipped her head back to look at the ceiling, trying to remember. "Seifer told me that he got his lawyer in. That's about it. He thinks I should do the interrogation, just because he can't be bothered. Stupid, huh?"

"I actually don't think that's a bad idea," he answered, raising an eyebrow. "In fact, I think it's a good idea. You need the practice."

"Squall. I screwed up the interrogation section, remember? There's no way," she said, slowly and clearly so that he'd get the message.

"You didn't screw it up _that_ badly. There was just room for improvement."

"Well, I'm not going to risk all that we worked for just so I have the opportunity to get some practice, okay? This case was special, and everybody busted their butts on it," Rinoa protested.

"I don't think you'd do that badly," Zell piped up. She made a slashing motion at her throat, urging him to shut up.

Rinoa sat back down on Squall's bed. "I wish you were still there to help me."

"You're not supposed to need my help anymore. You made detective, remember?" Squall pointed out. He realized that the fact made him more than a little sad. Now that she was leaving the nest, he'd return to where he started, and with nothing to show for it except for a few new scars.

Rinoa bit her lip hesitantly. "We'll still see each other, right?"

Squall shrugged. "Depends on whether or not you choose to stay in Homicide. You could go to Environmental, or even Electronic."

"_Of course_ I'm staying in Homicide!" she exclaimed hotly.

"Well, there you go. So I imagine we'll be crossing paths occasionally."

Rinoa pursed her lips. "God. Now I kind of want to go back to being your aide," she joked.

"Back to doing the grunt work? I find that hard to believe."

She just turned her head to give him a look. "You know, whether you'll say so or not, we were a good team. And you know it."

He shrugged, just to make her angry. Then when he heard her thin shriek of resentment, he attempted a grin and said, "Hm. You know, I'll have to think about that." _Maybe I'm the master of understatement._

She frowned and grabbed his wrist. "Hey. I'm serious, you were the best teacher I could have ever hoped for. Even if your _manners_ left some to be desired," she said, grinning.

"Well, you weren't too bad yourself, even though you were pretty damn annoying most of the time."

"Wow, Squall, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!" Rinoa joked.

He squeezed her hand once, quickly. "You know, Heartilly, you're alright."

* * *

Rinoa was half-curled up in a waiting room chair, dozing lightly. Her exhaustion had hit her like a fist, and she was on the verge of going out cold. The throbbing in her head had cooled down to a menacing pulse. She had been watching a stream of visitors trickle in and out of Squall's room, but now she was just dead tired. But she didn't quite feel up to driving just yet.

She was just about to fade into real sleep when she was jerked awake by the sound of barely-stifled sobbing. Disoriented, she sat up and looked around wildly until she saw a familiar form in a chair a little ways off.

"Thetis?" she croaked, rubbing her eye.

Thetis's eyes widened, and she hurriedly swiped at her face, batting at all the tears. "Oh, hello, Officer Heartilly. I was just, ah, leaving…"

"Thetis, wait," Rinoa called, crossing the room and taking Thetis by the elbow. "I know how this must be for you. And I'm really sorry."

Thetis shook and dissolved into fresh sobs. "I'm the one who should be sorry," she bawled. She gestured towards Squall's room. "I took one look at the poor thing, and I just lost it. And the dear, he told me it wasn't my fault, when it quite obviously is…my son…how could he…my baby…"

"Thetis, it really isn't your fault," Rinoa murmured, trying to support Thetis's sagging body.

"I'm Tristan's mother, his mistakes are my mistakes. Miss Heartilly, please tell me the truth…" she begged, tugging at Rinoa's sleeve. "Did he kill the children? Please say he didn't…it's bad enough he tried to kill you and Squall and dear Detective Dincht, just please tell me he didn't kill the children…"

Rinoa hesitated, her heart breaking for the broken woman in her arms. "Thetis, I'm sorry. We…have every reason to believe that he is responsible…"

Thetis's face crumpled and she wailed piteously. Rinoa just folded Thetis into a solemn hug, not as a cop, but as a friend. There was nothing she could do now, Rinoa realized. There was nothing she could do except embrace the mother of a murderer in a dark waiting room.

* * *

Squall frowned, dread pulsing in his chest. He couldn't form a fist anymore. He tried clenching his right fist again and again, but shooting pain would stop him before he even got halfway. Zell slept on like a corpse, not even moving once throughout the night. Not a single snore.

Squall's dread was slowly turning to panic. What if he could never do it again? What would he do then? He tried again and again, but all he managed to do was open up the wounds on his hand again. But he still kept clenching and unclenching, even when the blood started to emerge. _This has got to be a joke…_

"Trying some physio?" a light voice said from the doorway. "I don't think it's supposed to make you bleed."

"Eveann." There was only a hint of a question in it, since he had received so many seemingly random visitors already. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised if the mailman popped in for a quick chat.

"I was wondering when you were going to end up here," she sighed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He stopped squeezing his hand shut to raise an eyebrow at her.

"The way you work? Ha. I'm surprised it's the first time you've been hospitalized." She stooped down and peered at his mottled face. "Ouch," she remarked.

"Well, that's one way to put it," he said sourly. "And are you trying to insult me or something?"

"Not at all," she said, smiling. "It's just when you get into cases like this, you…you really go at it. It worries me sometimes."

His eyebrows shot up until he felt a strain at his temples. "I worry you?" He felt _very _different from the old Squall Leonhart, the one that nobody ever seemed to give a damn about.

She shrugged, feeling rather silly now. "You know, I always wonder if you're going to have anything left for after the case. But you do. You always do, so I don't know why I think about it. It's the mother in me, I guess." _And right now, you've never looked younger. _"Jesus, Squall, how old are you, 30?" she remarked.

He gave her a strange look. "27. Why?"

"God, you're still just a kid. But anyway, maybe this will give you a chance to _rest_ before you dive back in. Rest, Squall. Remember it?" she joked.

"Yeah, I'll be getting a lot of it for a month or so. I've been suspended for 40 days," he said bitterly.

Dr. Kadowaki resisted the urge to smile at his disgusted expression. "Really? What for?"

He looked at the wall. "It wasn't my fault. If I hadn't done it, Rinoa and Zell might have died."

Dr. Kadowaki glanced at the sleeping Zell and winced. "Well. As glad as I am that it didn't happen, you didn't answer my question."

Squall scowled. "I went into a building without getting clearance."

"Well, that would do it." Eveann tipped her head to the side, surveying Squall carefully for any anger. "But I still think that it'll be good for you. You were in too deep, I think."

Squall just glowered and tried clenching his fist again.

Eveann sighed. "What _are_ you doing?"

"I can't make a fist anymore," he muttered. His hand was shaking slightly and the pain was starting to become a little overwhelming. "It's kind of a big deal."

"But it's normal. You really banged up your hand, you know. You're not going to regain full function overnight. I think you need to sleep."

He tried one more time, his fingertips agonizingly close to his palm. Using the rest of his energy, he snapped his hand shut. Eveann just sat back and watched him struggle to hold his trembling hand in that position while pain threatened to contort his features. She shook her head. "You just don't want to listen, do you?"

"Not when it's something I don't want to hear," he said truthfully. He finally relaxed his hand, but a dull pain still remained.

Eveann gathered her things and prepared to leave. "I have to say, I'm proud of you. I know this case meant a lot. And in a month, I'll be waiting for you to storm into the morgue, heap corpses on me, and boss me around, as usual."

He smirked. She had just summed up their relationship perfectly, in his opinion. "You can count on it."

Eveann almost collided directly with Rinoa in the waiting room. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Rinoa. I'm running a bit late for work," she explained cheerfully.

"Oh…hi, Eveann," Rinoa said distractedly. "Um…how are you? It's been a while, hasn't it?" She tried to swallow a yawn, but failed miserably.

Eveann didn't pretend not to notice. "You haven't slept, have you?" she remarked.

Rinoa was about to lie, then thought better of it. "Not really," she admitted.

Dr. Kadowaki grinned. "Oh, that's so sweet, Rinoa. Keeping a bit of a vigil. How adorable."

Rinoa hastily corrected her. "Um, no, it's not like that. I was just…I owe him a lot. I mean a _lot…_"

Eveann continued on as if Rinoa hadn't even spoken. "I've always liked the idea of the two of you being together. Although it did seem like a bit of a stretch at the time because, you know, Squall is Squall. I suppose nearly getting his head cracked open would knock some sense into him, wouldn't it?"

Rinoa had to giggle at that. "I wouldn't be too sure," she joked.

Eveann shook her head. "He's a bit of a mess in there. He was freaking out because he couldn't make a fist. As if he's nothing if he can't be a cop. It concerns me."

"To him, he's a cop first and foremost. Everything else comes second. That's just who he is, really."

Eveann smiled warmly. "Well. I really _am _late for work now, so I'll see you around. Keep the Lieutenant in check, okay?"

Rinoa feigned a shrug. "I'll try."

Eveann paused and winked. "He makes you happy. You're a lucky woman, Miss Heartilly."

"_Eveann_," she groaned.

Dr. Kadowaki chuckled and turned away. "Don't worry, I'm an ace when it comes to confidentiality."

* * *

Four days had passed and there were two hours left until he was discharged. Squall was feeling antsy as hell. His ribs still ached and his face still throbbed, but he was dying to leave. He tapped the pencil against all the discharge paperwork he had to fill out. He had been given strict orders to stay in bed for two more days. Squall planned to break them almost immediately. The whole invalid thing was definitely _not_ what he wanted to do for 2 more days.

He heard a knock on the doorframe. Addison Banks was leaning against the wall, her hand on her son Jamie's shoulder. "Lieutenant Leonhart," she greeted him.

"Um…" Squall set the papers aside on the bedside table. "Hello." The only time that witnesses and family members ever came back to Squall was to complain.

"You're my cop, right?" Jamie piped up. He was still blithe as ever, oblivious of or indifferent to the barely-noticeable bruises that still covered his skin. His dark eyes subtly glanced over Squall's injuries.

_My cop_. "Yes...?"

"Jamie has something to say to you," Addison emphasized, pushing her son forward.

Jamie turned to scowl at his mother, then turned back to Squall. "We heard you caught him," he said enthusiastically. "We just wanted to say thanks."

"Oh…you're welcome." Squall was feeling a bit dazed. This had definitely never happened before. "Um…what are you still doing here?"

"Jamie disobeyed the doctor's orders and returned to sports before he was supposed to," Addison interjected icily.

Jamie rolled his eyes and groaned. "_Mom_."

"So he ripped his stitches, and now here he is," Addison finished, giving her son another reproving look.

"What sport do you play?" Squall asked quietly.

Jamie stopped glaring at his mom long enough to glance at Squall. "I play soccer," he answered. "And I fence."

"Really?" Squall wasn't able to stop himself from sounding surprised. He had no idea that kids were still _into _fencing.

"Yeah," Jamie said, sounding almost a little defensive. "Do you?"

"Well, a really long time ago, yeah."

Jamie's expression brightened. "Cool! Which sword?" Addison looked exasperated, but didn't bother to stop her son. "I get to use the epee now. It's really heavy. I want to use the saber _soooo_ bad, but my teacher says I'm not ready yet."

"Um…I only got to use the foil, I stopped when I was eight." Squall wanted to smile. He couldn't believe he was here talking fencing with a 12-year old kid.

"Really? Why?"

_Yeah, like my foster parents would let me keep fencing. Sometimes they wouldn't fucking act like I existed._

"Er…I moved. I just never picked it back up again," Squall said, skirting the issue.

"That sucks. You should start it up again! You know, I bet you'd still be good at it…" Jamie exclaimed, grinning broadly.

Squall just smiled, close-lipped. He couldn't imagine fencing again, really. "I don't know," he said, shrugging. "I don't think that's me anymore."

Jamie looked like he was going to ask more questions, but Addison clapped a firm hand on her son's shoulder. "I'm sure the Lieutenant needs his rest, Jamie," she said reprovingly.

"Yeah, okay. Sorry," he added. He kept his eyes on Squall as his mother started to steer him out of the room. "See you around, I guess."

"Okay."

"Wait outside," Addison instructed, then closed the door. She turned to Squall. "I still want to be the prosecutor," she announced.

"Mrs. Banks…"

"I know you think I'm too emotionally involved," she cut in hotly. "But, Lieutenant Leonhart, that is how I _work_. I can give you a _multitude_ of references. Believe me, if you put me on this case, this Doyle will be looking at 50 years, at the very least."

"_Mrs. Banks_," Squall said emphatically. "You know, before you found the need to interrupt me, I was going to give you permission to be the prosecuting attorney. You'll have to clear it up with Quistis Trepe, the Chief of Police, but you shouldn't have any problems there."

Addison hesitated, then flushed a deep red. "Very well," she muttered. "Glad to see you've changed your mind."

Squall shrugged. "I've thought about it. Getting involved…it's not as bad as I thought it was."

Addison smiled and shook his hand. "Looking forward to doing business with you." She briskly marched to the door.

"Mrs. Banks," he called again. "I don't want 50 years for Doyle. I want life. Can you do that for me?"

She gave him a wicked grin, looking very much like a shark. "You've got yourself a deal."

* * *

One of the fastest weeks of Squall's life passed in a feverish haze of night sweats and strange painkiller-induced sensations. The strongest ones made his skin crawl, and the weaker ones just made him feel a bit disoriented.

And now he was in the station, standing in front of the locker room mirror with his lieutenant's uniform on, checking his face. The bruising had faded to a sickly yellow, and the nose looked almost normal except for the slight bump in it. The lip still looked pretty bad. The scar across the bridge of his nose, on the other hand, looked like it always did.

He fidgeted uncomfortably. He didn't remember the last time he wore his uniform. It was a dark blue, with brass medals earned in his 9 years of duty adorning his chest. The creases were almost sharp enough to cut somebody. And then, of course, there was the stupid hat that made _everybody _look like an idiot.

He had been given clearance to attend this ceremony, simply because he had trained Rinoa. Squall supposed that he should be grateful to Quistis for it.

Squall scowled at the ugly hat one last time, then headed into the assembly hall. He was to stand at stage right and hand Rinoa her badge when her name was called. He had it in the pocket of his stiff trousers right now, in the rectangular velvet box.

Quistis was standing backstage, wearing her ruthlessly starched uniform. She was the only one exempt from the revolting hat. She lifted a brow when she saw Squall. "If you lost that badge, Leonhart, I'll go crazy…"

"Relax, it's right here," he said, pointing to his pocket. He turned to peek at the 60 or so aluminum folding chairs that had been positioned in front of the stage. Irvine and Selphie occupied two of them, cuddling amorously. Squall was quick to focus on something else before his eye started twitching again. Zell, still confined to a wheelchair, was vainly trying to tell a joke to an annoyed Seifer, making expansive hand motions. Well, that was the Balamb Police Department, Squall thought wryly. _Very _professional.

"We've got twenty officers moving up a rank today," Quistis informed him. "I was surprised when you weren't one of them. You happy where you are?"

Squall shrugged. "I was thinking I might take _your_ job," he joked.

"Hmph. Don't expect to try and take it without a fight."

"That could be arranged," he said, the corner of his lip curling up.

Quistis just glanced at him dismissively, playing along. "I'd whip your ass, Lieutenant." She laughed when he raised his eyebrows.

The chairs were starting to fill up, and it was getting closer to starting time. "Please tell me you're not making one of your boring speeches," Squall murmured.

"Too bad for you," she answered quietly. "Just do me a favor and don't fall asleep in the middle of it. It wouldn't reflect well on me." She marched out onstage and approached the microphone. Squall sighed and followed suit, back straight, steps equally paced.

"Officers, thank you for coming this evening. We're gathered to bestow high honors on twenty esteemed members of the force…" Quistis began. Squall began floating out of focus immediately. He _hated _Quistis's speeches. He blinked quickly to stop his eyelids from lowering.

But before he knew it, Quistis had finished with the formalities, and started calling names. She must have cut it down this time, in the interest of time and audience consciousness.

Rinoa was the fourth name called, having finished fourth in her class. There was whooping and whistling from the audience when she was called, mainly from Zell and Irvine, but the glare from Quistis silenced them almost immediately. Squall couldn't help smirking.

Rinoa took a deep, shaky breath. She had been _this _close to crying all day. She had been waiting for this moment for what seemed like years, and now it was finally right in front of her face. _I will NOT cry_, she thought firmly.

Squall saw her lip tremble for an instant and wanted to smile. She was probably the only one who didn't look ridiculous in the damn hat. A swelling feeling was filling him, and he realized that he was _incredibly _proud…

She was in front of him now. "Congratulations, Detective Heartilly," he said, handing her the black box. And he grinned.

She took a deep breath to gather her composure and accepted the badge. And that was it. All she had to do now was walk off the stage without going to pieces. It seemed like a Herculean feat, but she was across the stage before she knew it.

Quistis approached the microphone again. "The Balamb Police Department Medal of Honor is no small award. It is conferred on only the bravest individuals who show extreme courage in the face of daunting personal danger. And for the first time in BPD history, the Medal will be bestowed upon a detective who only advanced rank for the first time today. Detective Rinoa Heartilly, if you'd please take the stage a second time."

Rinoa had completely forgotten about the Medal of Honor. The stitches in her shoulder had been taken out long ago, and the shootout almost never crossed her mind anymore. Still clutching her badge, she marched out on stage a second time.

"At great risk to her own life, Detective Heartilly played an instrumental role in defending the life of her attending officer, Lieutenant Leonhart, only faltering after sustaining a debilitating injury. Today, we honor her courage as well as her rank advancement," Quistis narrated.

The medal was a heavy silver star, dangling from a blue ribbon of thick silk. With a sure hand, Quistis fastened it on Rinoa's breast pocket. "A deep congratulations to you, Detective Heartilly."

"Thank you so much, Chief," Rinoa blurted out, louder and faster than she meant to. She immediately wanted to kick herself, and had to keep herself from sprinting offstage.

After Quistis gave her closing speech, Squall jogged to keep up with her as she strode down the hallway. "Quistis. I need to have a talk with you."

"In my office," she said shortly, without interrupting her pace. When she closed the door, she turned to him. "Well, what now?"

Squall took off the loathed hat and tossed it on a chair. "It's about Rinoa."

"You're here to confess your ongoing relationship with Detective Heartilly?" she said abruptly, narrowing her eyes.

"…What?" he asked, making a face.

"I know that the two of you have picked it up again. I'm disappointed in you, Lieutenant Leonhart," she said sharply.

To her surprise, he threw his hands up and said, "Alright, it was stupid to think you would have missed it. But that's not what I want to talk to you about."

"Well, what _do _you want to talk about, then?" she asked, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"She's not my aide anymore. So I want her to be my partner," Squall said immediately, without beating around the bush.

Quistis looked at him as if he was mentally deficient. "Why on _Earth_ would you think that's a good idea?" she demanded. "You honestly think I would clear this just so you could have the relationship without the guilt? _Please_…"

"Quistis, you're getting ahead of yourself," he interrupted angrily. He paused to think. "She…covers the areas that I'm inadequate in. It's my objective belief that we make a good team. And I'd like to add that it's not against code to have a personal relationship with an equally-ranked officer."

"That doesn't mean I have to approve of it."

"For God's sake…what I do when I'm not on duty is none of your business, Quistis!" Squall was dangerously close to shouting. "This…I deserve to have a life of my own. I can't just live for my job anymore. That may have been me before, but I'm beyond that now. Now can you _please _just cooperate with me?"

Quistis just stared at him and took several deep breaths. "The first time I get _any _indication of unprofessional behavior between the two of you, this partnership is _over_. You hear me?"

Squall let out a sigh of relief. "Yes. Thank you."

"Now get out. I'll file the paperwork," she commanded.

Squall nodded, picked up his hat and headed back into the assembly hall. But when he entered, he was face to face with a mountain of a man.

"Lieutenant Leonhart. You trained my daughter," he declared, holding out an immense hand for Squall to shake.

General Fury Caraway was an impressive figure, six feet and five inches of military muscle. His black hair was liberally streaked with gray. He had a nameplate reading "Gen. Caraway" in block letters adorning his chest, and he was bedecked in medals and ribbons. This was Squall's first time experiencing the horror that was meeting a girlfriend's father. He felt the inexplicable urge to stand up very straight.

"Um. Hello," was the most that Squall could say as he allowed his hand to be engulfed by Caraway's.

"Have you sustained an injury?" His voice was bereft of paternal concern, he almost reminded Squall of himself. Indifferent.

"Er…" He was suddenly glad that the bruises were fading. "It's nothing big. Hostile suspect."

"I suppose I'll have to thank you for the impressive progress that my daughter's made. To be honest, I wouldn't have thought that Rinoa would have the _discipline_ to make one of Balamb's finest…very unruly, nothing like her mother…"

Squall resisted the impulse to squirm. This was almost embarrassing. He could just imagine how angry this would make Rinoa.

"Ah…well, I personally thought that Officer…_Detective_ Heartilly had many qualities that we look for here on the force," Squall said quickly, in that "I'm-professional" voice that he had perfected for authority figures.

"Oh, really? That's a new development," General Caraway murmured, looking like he didn't believe a word of it. "Whenever I tried to deal with her, she was always so…"

"Squall! Hey, I called you like, five times!"

She was rushing towards him, radiant with happiness, apparently not noticing Squall's companion.

"I've got huge news! So Quistis gave me this big speech about the whole responsibility thing and…oh…" she trailed off when she saw her father. The cheerfulness was immediately sapped out of her expression and Squall noticed multiple emotions flashing across her face. She went through fury, apprehension, and humiliation until she finally settled on the aloof, flat look that cops were so fond of. "General," she said coolly.

"Rinoa. I was just telling Squall here how much work it must have taken him to get you where you are now."

Rinoa nodded, not taking her eyes off her father's face. "I couldn't have done it without him." Squall shifted uncomfortably. He really, _really_ wanted to flee the scene.

They ended up staying silent for several awkward moments, Squall keeping his eyes glued to the floor and the Caraways engaged in what seemed to be a staring contest.

The General was the first to surrender. "I can't stay long, I've got a conference in Deling…" he began.

"Don't be late," Rinoa answered, voice calm. The General gave her one last glance, turned away, and marched out of the hall.

As soon as he was safely out of range, Rinoa turned around. She bit her trembling lower lip.

"Hey," Squall said hurriedly, in an effort to ward off the Waterworks. "I'm sorry. I didn't know he was coming. He just kind of…came."

Rinoa nodded and tipped her head towards the ceiling, blinking rapidly. "I know. He does that. It's not your fault." She straightened her shoulders and smiled bitterly. "So, was he saying shit about me, how inadequate I always was?"

"Just forget it," Squall commanded. "He was here, now he's not. Let's just get trashed and get out of here, okay?"

"You sound like MacGill," she muttered.

"Guy's a terrible influence." Every one of his bruises seemed to be pulsing with pain. "But hey, he knows _something_…"

She just giggled, then her face brightened again. "I almost forgot! Quistis had a talk with me in her office. She gave me this lecture about responsibility and what have you, but guess what?"

"What?"

"We're partners!" she cried, hopping several times in excitement. "I don't have to leave you after all! Isn't that awesome?"

"Oh…wow. I never expected Quistis to do that," Squall lied in his best shocked voice. _And I thought you couldn't get any sneakier, Quistis…_

"This is going to be so great. Leonhart and Heartilly, the dynamic crime-fighting duo!" she exclaimed, making a marquee with her hands. "I'm _amped_."

"I think we've got serious ass-kicking potential," he assured her, putting a subtle hand on her shoulder.

Rinoa smiled at him, and drew out her brand new, sparkling gold badge for him to hold. He took it and ran his hands over the grooves in the metal, remembering the pride and feeling of self-worth that had come with earning his detective's shield. One of the best days of his life…

"It's what I always wanted," she whispered, giving him a watery smile. "I don't think I've ever been this proud of something."

He allowed himself a tiny grin. Because the truth was, neither did he.

* * *

He'd never tell her, but he liked it when she stayed the night. Even though he would never expect himself to enjoy the feeling of being so close to someone, he did. She even had her own toothbrush and makeup in his bathroom.

"You know, I've never seen you in uniform before," Rinoa pointed out, glancing at the clothes that were now scattered haphazardly on the floor. She raised an eyebrow mischievously. "Pretty hot. You should wear it more often."

"Oh, _please_," he scoffed, rolling over on his side to face her. Her hair smelled fruity and the lamplight was glinting off her sleepy eyes.

"I'll have obscene sexual fantasies if I want, thanks," she teased, then burst into giggles when his eyes widened.

"Not funny. _Not _evenfunny," he exclaimed, lightly pushing her. "You'd better get it together for that interrogation tomorrow."

She stopped laughing and crammed a pillow over her head. "Oh God! I'm so dead! I'm gonna kill Seifer for making me do this!"

Squall sat up and yanked the pillow out of her hands. "Would you relax? You'll be _fine_. You didn't make detective for nothing, you know."

"This guy probably eats cops for breakfast. I'll screw up. I know it," Rinoa wailed. She grabbed Squall's wrist. "You need to help me, or I'll choke. Please."

"I'm not supposed to be helping you. I'm supposed to be kicking you out of the nest."

"Just this once. I'd never forgive myself if I messed this up," she begged. "Not after all we went through for this."

Squall stared at her, sighed, and fell back against the pillow. "In the beginning, you want to make him feel hopeless. Make sure he gets the point that the evidence against him is more than enough, and that he really has nowhere to go. It'll help close the window."

Rinoa rested her chin in her palms, listening attentively and watching as the cop in him got to work. Squall went on. "Then you find a sensitive point, and keep on pushing it. For Doyle, it'll likely be his father. Don't let that angle go, because it'll be the one where Doyle will probably reveal his motive. Once you have him, you want to keep eye contact." Squall's own eyes were narrow and flinty, as they often were when he was talking about the force. "Body language is the key here. A flinch, a smirk. You have to be on your toes."

Squall closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, concentrating hard. "The end is especially important. Don't let up. You need to pressure him, a _lot_. The lawyer's gonna give you a lot of shit for that, but don't worry about him until he calls harassment. Then when Doyle caves…you're home free," he finished. "You get a confession, it's in the bag. Might not even need a trial."

"God, I love hearing you talk business," she remarked, grinning.

"Can't you control your hormones? Just this once?" He rolled over and closed his eyes.

"Mmm…I could try," she teased, snaking an arm around his waist. "I really do appreciate the help, though."

"Uh huh," he said, his voice muted from fatigue.

She was almost asleep when a thought jerked her awake. "Motive," she whispered. "How am I supposed to get a motive from him? What could Daddy Dearest possibly have done to him to make him start killing kids? It doesn't fit."

"Just think about it," Squall whispered. "Go to sleep."

"Why do people like Doyle kill, Squall?" she persisted.

"Oh, for God's sake," he said irritably, rolling over to face her. He ran a hand over his tired face and sighed. "People like Doyle kill because they want to prove something. He wanted to be different, so radically different, from his dad. To him, his dad didn't have what it took to go the distance. Tristan wanted to prove that he was stronger. That's how I see it. Can I sleep now?" Without waiting for an answer, Squall rolled back over.

"Okay…but Squall?"

"You've got to be kidding me…"

"How did you get so good at this? You could literally do this in your sleep. That's all, I swear. Please tell me this gets easier as you go along," Rinoa implored.

He screwed up his face and Rinoa already knew the answer. To Squall, being a cop was like breathing: it came naturally. Finally, he said, "I'm not going to say that it gets any easier." He thought for a bit, then kissed her lightly on the forehead, almost like an afterthought.

"But it's always, _always_ worth it."

* * *

Rinoa, fresh from a shower, pursed her lips at herself in the bathroom mirror, and scowled. "How are you supposed to look for a criminal interrogation?" she asked Squall, who was still in bed.

Squall rolled over and hid a smile in the pillow. "I can't believe you just asked me that."

"It's a _serious _question. I'm not gonna risk looking like hell for my first interrogation. No way," she said decisively. She grabbed two tubes of mascara and stared at them, as if she was trying to decide which wire to cut to disable a bomb.

"I seriously doubt that the outcome of this whole investigation is going to ride on which kind of makeup you use." He squinted at the clock. 8:13 and he was still damn tired. And she was asking him questions about makeup.

When she finally decided what her look was going to be and started applying eyeliner, he felt the strange desire to avert his eyes. "_Never watch a woman when she's putting on her makeup," _his father had told him_. "They don't want you to know how they get so pretty. They only want you to see the finished product." _

_His mother had rolled his eyes and put down her lipstick. "Laguna, I don't know where you get these stupid ideas." She turned around to face Squall. "Honey, women don't mind if you watch. And I'll have you know that women are not 'products,'" she announced, heading towards the walk-in closet to select her outfit._

"_Normal_ _women don't like it when you watch," Laguna said to Squall under his breath._

"_I heard that!" _

He was surprised when the memory of his parents didn't bring the acidic ache that it normally did. Instead, there was nothing but fond nostalgia. The terrified and repressed 8-year old that still remained inside him was lying dormant. He tried to remember the nightmare he had last night, but then it occurred to him that he didn't have one.

He watched Rinoa put on her makeup, wondering if she was one of those women who minded. She wasn't. In fact, she even seemed to like it. _How do you explain that, Dad?_

When she finished, she turned around and came to the side of the bed to show him. "What do you think?"

"Hmm. You know, I'd be careful. Tristan Doyle _just_ might fall passionately in love with you during your little interrogation and lead you astray. Really, you never know," Squall said, trying to keep his face as straight as possible.

She scowled and batted at him. "You're so mean to me."

"Although the last time he tried to take what was mine, he got a bullet in the hand and a broken nose. So I don't think he'd be too eager to try it again," Squall said, shrugging.

"True," Rinoa said, trying to hide her blush at being called "mine" by Squall. "I've got to run. Wish me luck?"

He ran a thumb along her cheekbone. "Kick some ass for me, okay, Heartilly?" he said softly.

She clicked her heels and saluted. "Damn right," she exclaimed. She grinned at him over her shoulder and shut the door behind her.

Squall rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head as he prepared to catch up on some much-anticipated sleep.

* * *

With her new detective's shield clipped to her belt, Rinoa felt at least an inch taller as she entered the interrogation hold. Seifer was leaning against the concrete wall.

"He's in there," he said, jerking his thumb to a door on the left. "Got the lawyer with him. He'll be a tough nut to crack."

"Yeah, thanks for that," Rinoa snapped.

Seifer rolled his eyes. "Cool your jets. Just get in there and wrap this case up, okay?"

Rinoa took a deep breath and opened the door, her stomach leaping up to her throat.

Tristan Doyle managed to make even an orange prison jumpsuit look fashionable. It didn't hang off his body in wrinkly folds, but was neat and smooth. His right hand was covered in thick white bandages, and he still had a massive black eye. He inspected the fingernails of his left hand, looking bored, while his pouchy, balding lawyer rifled through a leather briefcase. A low-ranked officer was standing by the door, waiting to take Tristan away when the interrogation was finished.

When Rinoa entered the room and sat down, a smirk sliced through Tristan's features. "Officer," he greeted, his silver eyes glinting.

"It's Detective now," she informed him icily. The bump on her head throbbed, as if in memory.

"Well, well…I confess myself surprised," Tristan murmured, the sharp smile never leaving his face.

She didn't say anything and turned the recorder on. Her heart rate was accelerating. _Make him feel hopeless_, Squall's voice reverberated through her mind. "Mr. Doyle, to be honest, a confession is not necessary of you. We've got enough evidence on charges of breaking and entering, assault, attempted murder of three police officers, and first degree murder to have you in jail without a trial."

"That's absolutely not true," the lawyer huffed indignantly.

"We've got voice recordings, video footage, visual descriptions, and firsthand accounts from three members of the Balamb Police Department, including myself," Rinoa continued, ignoring the lawyer. "With the evidence against you, you'll be likely to face at least 60 years in prison, if not more for the murders."

Tristan was silent, his face registering no emotion. Rinoa couldn't quite tell whether or not she was succeeding in making him feel hopeless.

"Given the number and degree of the murders, a plea bargain would have a low chance of success," she went on. She suddenly felt a surge of boldness, truly believing that she had the upper hand. "I'll give you one last chance to confess, Tristan."

Tristan's lip curled. "I'll do no such thing," he interjected before his lawyer could say anything.

Rinoa nodded. It was exactly what she had expected. "Alright," she said. "Let's, um, start with Jason Iverson…"

* * *

"Can you hear anything?"

Selphie pressed her ear to the crack between the door and the wall, listening intently. "I can't hear anything," she announced. "It's soundproofed."

"Christ, Tilmitt, stop acting like a fucking five-year old," Seifer snarled, yanking her away. She pulled herself from his grasp and scowled.

"I wonder if she's crackin' him," Irvine thought aloud, pacing anxiously. "Man, I hope so. Everything's riding on her, isn't it?"

Selphie bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. "I think she'll do it. I mean, she learned from the best, didn't she?"

"Interrogation was her worst subject on the exam," Seifer said, without looking up from the paperwork he was working on.

Selphie stopped bouncing, somewhat deflated. "Oh."

The room was silent. This room, along with the actual interrogation room, was soundproofed. Irvine shoved his hands in his pockets and stopped pacing. "I think she'll pull it off," he announced.

"She'd better," Seifer growled. He gave up resisting temptation and peered through the window in the door. "Doyle looks sapped. She's got the edge, I think."

Selphie punched the air. "Al_right_!" she whooped.

"Shut up! It's not nearly over," Seifer snapped. "The last thing we need is for her to be distracted."

Seifer's phone rang, and he whipped it to his ear. "Almasy."

"Yeah, it's me."

Seifer almost did a double take. "What the…_Leonhart_?"

"Mmhmm. Anyway, how's Interrogation going?"

"How the hell did you get my number?" _Great, now I have to change phones…_

"I'm not at liberty to say. You going to answer my question or what?" Squall enjoyed this, pissing Seifer off from the comfort of his own home.

Seifer grumbled for a minute before answering. "You know, Quistis told me I'm not allowed to tell you jack about this investigation. You'll just have to find out with the rest of Balamb." He sneered, envisioning Squall's reaction.

Squall remained calm. "Hmm. Does Quistis know about that time you got plastered while on duty and puked in a squad car? I don't think she'd be too thrilled--"

"Alright, shut up now. Asshole. Heartilly's doing fine, as far as I can tell. She looks like she's got his balls in a vise," Seifer groused.

"I want you to look in and see just how tight the vise is."

"Hell no," Seifer retorted.

"If she chokes and you were there to let it happen, I'll rip your fucking head off--" Squall said hotly, his impatience flaring up like fire.

"Good _God, _take your meds or something. I'll be back." He thrust the phone at Irvine, who caught it with a bewildered expression on his face. "Keep him occupied."

Irvine shrugged and swiveled around. "Hey, Squall. How's the mug?"

In his irritation, Seifer accidentally banged through the door so hard that it hit the wall. Tristan raised an eyebrow and Rinoa turned around to glare.

"Sorry," he said briskly. "Carry on."

"May I ask who you are?" Tristan said, the politeness laced with poison.

"I'm the attending officer. Carry on," Seifer ordered.

Rinoa sighed and turned back around. "What first interested you in the Ring of Truth?"

A lazy smile curved Tristan's lips. "A wonderful cause. A revolutionary view of the future. I fell in love."

"Killing kids is a wonderful cause? Is that really what you think?"

"Detective," the lawyer cut in. "That's badgering."

Rinoa exhaled and paused for a minute. After almost an hour, she really was sick of fighting with the lawyer. They had covered every murder victim, every detail, and she was starting to get tired. She was losing ground, she knew it. The urge to panic was threatening to set in. She chose a different track. "So your father took you away when you were 15. How did you feel about that?"

"Is this in any way important?" the lawyer demanded, but the fierce look he got from Rinoa shut him up.

Tristan cocked his head and pursed his lips in a theatrical display of thinking. "Hm. Rather resentful, I imagine. He _was _uprooting me for rather cowardly reasons, you know. I felt rather hateful towards him for it."

"Do you still?" Rinoa asked immediately.

"Come again?"

"Do you still hate him for it? Or do you have different reasons now?"

"I hate him for his cowardice. How he'd never finish what he started. How the tiniest shortcomings could stop him completely. A small man, and a man that I never want to be like." Tristan finished the thought with a small smile. "I like to think that I take after my mother."

_Oh, no_, Rinoa thought. _Not by a long shot_. "Did you feel that you had to prove that you were different from him?"

"Of course. After all, the fool tried to create me in his image. I certainly wasn't going to stand for that."

"So what did you do? To prove that you were different?"

"_Detective_," the lawyer said vehemently

"Here's what I think, Tristan," Rinoa continued, steamrolling over the lawyer. In a moment of impulse, she threw her panic to the wind. "I think you killed. I think Project Astyanax was just a slap in Daddy's face. You wanted to be better, to have more resolve. You chose Squall Leonhart for extra impact, because he was unfinished business that your father was too weak to take care of. You recruited new members to make a new, better Ring without the stain of your father."

The color was steadily draining from Tristan's face, even though he remained expressionless. The lawyer, on the other hand, turned bright red and started yelling. "Detective, this is an outrage--"

"Or did you kill him, too?" she said, raising her voice over that of the lawyer's. "Did you kill your father too, Tristan? How far were you willing to go to have him out of your life?" Power, a feeling that Rinoa hardly experienced, was starting to fill her from the bottom up. "How much were you willing to do?"

"I did what I had to!" Tristan shouted, before the lawyer could stop him.

Silence stifled the room. Finally, Rinoa pushed away from the desk. "That's all I have for you." She nodded at the nearby officer. "Take him out of here."

She strode past Seifer, her face set in tight lines. When the door was safely shut, she rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. "God," she muttered.

"You were a cold bitch in there," Seifer informed her. "And that's a _compliment_, believe me."

"Wait, what? What happened?" Irvine asked immediately, alarmed. He held the phone away from his ear.

"Doyle snapped. He as good as confessed," Seifer said.

"OhmyGod. Are you serious?" Selphie squealed, throwing her arms around Rinoa. "You did it! Oh my God, Rin!"

"That was the most stressful thing I've ever had to do!" Rinoa exclaimed, laughing in spite of herself. "I _never _thought he would fold so easily!"

"Oh man. Our little Rinny's all grown up now." Irvine shoved the phone back at Seifer and joined the group hug. "Look out, world, Cold Bitch Cop Rinoa's here!"

Seifer turned away from the lovefest and pressed the phone to his ear. "Alright, Interrogation's ended, for now."

"And?"

"And…" Seifer turned his head and looked at the grinning but pale Rinoa. He exhaled. "And she kicked serious ass."

* * *

Squall had thought that he would be terribly bored without the force to keep him occupied, but that was far from the truth.

He read books that he had never gotten around to before. He could lounge on the couch with one in the afternoon, and the next time he looked up, the sun would be setting. He enjoyed the mysteries, even though he could usually solve them before the main character could.

He cooked, or at least attempted to. After so many years of subsisting on takeout food, Squall was just starting to familiarize himself with cooking. Rinoa would come over sometimes, and they would laugh at the sorry concoctions Squall had procured. And of course, he had many social distractions, usually in the form of Ian MacGill. In fact, he was actually enjoying his time off.

Sometimes he would just stare at the ceiling and piece together his fractured memories, like a child returning to a long-forgotten puzzle. Some of them were sweet, most of them were exquisitely painful. But the most important thing was that he was able to realize just how much each of them defined him, no matter how agonizing it was.

Today, he was thinking about his foster parents. Jacob, whose last name he couldn't remember for the life of him. The boozing, roaring beast that had heavy fists and a quick temper. He thought of Annie Hart, the failed novelist with the sick mind and the cold hands. There was Ted, with his five girlfriends and three illegitimate children.

Not one of them had loved him. Annie had said that she did, but only to lull him into a false sense of security. He doubted that Ted knew what love meant, and Jacob was just too drunk to feel any emotion at all.

But they had taught him how to survive. Annie had taught him a lesson to never be naïve, _ever_. He got much of his physical prowess from defending himself against Jacob's nightly rages. From Ted, he learned to never take on more than he could handle. Gerald Franklin, the man who killed his family, made him realize that he could never let himself be victimized again. His suffering at the hands of these four adults had made him who he was now.

Rinoa's light coughing tugged him back to the present. He was in her bed tonight, and they had just gotten back from dinner at a swanky Italian restaurant. Her back was against the headboard, and she was reading the newspaper. Wire-rimmed reading glasses were perched on the rim of her nose, and she was just wearing boxer shorts and one of Squall's old t-shirts. She took off the glasses and peered at him. "Hey, you OK?"

"Uh huh," he said, still staring at the ceiling.

Rinoa thought nothing of it. He had been falling into a lot of these trance-like states lately. "Guess who's been appointed prosecutor for the Doyle case?"

"Addy Banks," he answered expressionlessly.

"Hey, how'd you know?"

"Lucky guess."

She folded up the newspaper and set it aside. "Well, I've got to get to work early tomorrow. 'Night." She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

She turned off the light and closed her eyes, used to the lack of response.

But a minute later, from out of the dark, he said, "I love you, too."

Her eyes sprang open and she turned to look at him.

"I know I don't say it enough," he said quietly. He smiled when she raised an eyebrow. "Okay…at all. But I do."

She nuzzled her face into his shoulder. "Thank you. That can't have been easy to say."

He just shrugged. Lately, everything had been getting easier.

After she had fallen asleep, Squall was still awake, just feeling the way their bodies fit together, listening to her breathe. He slipped out of bed and stepped out onto Rinoa's beloved balcony. _Everything just slows down out here_, she had said. He tipped his head to look at the winking stars, and tried to see if he could feel it.

Would he trade what he had now for a happier past? If things had gone differently, would he still have all this?

It didn't matter. This was what he was now. There were no "what ifs" and what could have been. He had a scarred psyche, but it was no longer his main focus. He wasn't 8-year old Squall Loire, bleeding and crying in a dark alley. He wasn't cold, apathetic Lieutenant Leonhart. He had transcended both of them, into someone that he could feel comfortable in. Now he was just Squall Leonhart, staring at the stars, and the woman he loved merely a few steps away.

To his joy, he felt the world slow down as he took the leap from his past to his present.

* * *

Sorry for the length, I just couldn't stop, really. :) 

The epilogue definitely should not take so long to put up as this one did. I really, REALLY hope you guys liked this. And please don't hesitate to leave a review, as usual. Much love, and until next time.


	20. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **It's no more mine than it was in the first chapter.

**Chapter Warning**: I wrote this one in the present tense, just for a bit of a twist. Also, there is a bit of a hokey ending speech in your near future.

_Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt._

-Vonnegut

**The Force**

**Epilogue

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**

A "FOR SALE" sign is firmly planted in the lawn of the Loire home. Now, there is a wide "SOLD" sticker plastered over it.

Winter has hit Balamb in full force. The weathermen are calling for a wintry mix of snow and rain, and the sky is the color of iron.

It is the day before he returns to the force. But today, he stands in the empty building that was once his house, with moving boxes at his feet. He stretches, feeling the strain on his back from lifting so many heavy boxes. He vaguely wonders where he's going to put all this stuff, but he pushes the thought to the back of his mind. All that matters now is that he took this step, that he could make it this far without collapsing entirely…

She is here, too. She carries an enormous box down the stairs, screwing up her face as if to demonstrate how weighty the box is. She puts it down at his feet with a sigh of relief. "_Please_ tell me that's the last one!" she groans, but her face is almost cheerful.

"I haven't done the master bedroom yet," he tells her. He grins when her face falls. "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He wants to do this by himself, just to see if he can.

He carries several empty packing crates upstairs to his parents' bedroom. He closes the door behind him, trying not to let the deluge of emotion crash into him. This was the part he was dreading the most. He didn't know why.

It must be because he can still see them here. He can still see them, their shocked and lifeless faces staring at the ceiling forever. He still feels the strange, waxy texture of their skin.

The movers had already hauled the bed and the dresser from the room, leaving massive bare spots and haphazard piles of things around the room.

He doesn't know where to start. He doesn't want to touch anything in the room, not yet at least. He'll just start by leaning against the wall and trying to breathe.

He feels so heavy, as if his roots are yanking him back down again. He knows it's ridiculous and impossible, but he can still smell his mother's perfume in the air. She liked to wear different scents all the time. One day it would be juniper, the next vanilla. He feels another headache coming on and decides to just start throwing things in the boxes before he just breaks down.

His father's countless silk ties are tossed unceremoniously into the box. So are his mother's dresses. As he absently piles random trinkets into the box, he wonders why this is so hard for him. He didn't feel like this when he was packing up his _own_ room. He had packed up what remained of his childhood without blinking, but now it feels like there's something in his throat that he can't quite swallow.

In effect, he's saying goodbye to them forever. He never really had the chance to before. He had been lost in the foster home shuffle, and never had the opportunity to finish the grieving process.

What would have happened if things hadn't gone this way? Would he have gone to college, would he have kids now, would he still be a cop?

There was no way of knowing. And no need to know. There was only this final farewell, and then he'd be moving on.

He sighs and tapes the boxes shut after looking around the room one last time to make sure he didn't forget about anything. He inwardly says goodbye for the last time and heaves the boxes up.

She knows that something's wrong immediately as he comes down the stairs. His face is slightly pinched, his eyes flat and expressionless. He doesn't say anything to her as he carries the boxes out the open door and towards the car.

She falls into step with him. "Are you alright?" she asks quietly.

He pops open the trunk and places the boxes in one by one. "It was touch and go for a time," he answers, his voice a little harsher than intended. He exhales sharply and slams the trunk shut. "Sorry. It's just…I'm feeling pretty ridiculous right now."

She sits on the trunk and motions for him to do the same. When he does, she rests her head on his shoulder. "You shouldn't feel ashamed for missing them, Squall," she murmurs. "You're not supposed to stop. My mom died when I was five, and I still wish she was around. It's not supposed to end." She rubbed his back slowly. "It changes you a lot, but I think it's for the better, you know? Makes you a little stronger."

He turns to graze her cheek with his chapped lips. She always, _always_ knew what he needed to hear. It took him a while, but he finally realized just how good he had it now. Getting accustomed to having _something_ was strange after almost a lifetime of having nothing.

She gasps and eagerly outstretches cupped hands. "Hey, it's snowing!" she cries, her joy almost childlike. She pokes out her tongue, trying to catch some a fluffy snowflake.

He shakes his head and smiles at her, a grown woman of 25 trying to catch snowflakes on her tongue.

"God, I don't even remember the last time it snowed in this place. When I was a kid, I did the snow dance every winter, but it never worked!"

He just raises an eyebrow at her. "_Snow_ dance?"

Her jaw drops and she giggles. "You're kidding me. You never did the snow dance?!" she asks incredulously, as if it was the single most important aspect of childhood. "God, I even did that when I was at college…"

He just shrugs and rubs his cold hands together. "I never really liked snow. Too cold. Gets on the roads. That kind of thing." His nose and ears are starting to turn pink from the cold, and his breath steams as he talks. The bass from a radio thumps overwhelmingly as a car whizzes down the road.

"Maybe I'll teach you the snow dance when we get home," she teases, leaning into him. "It involves a shower and a lot of ice cubes."

"Hmm. And then what?"

"And then putting your pajamas on inside out and dancing in the shower," she finishes, giggling.

"Who makes up this kind of stuff?" he wonders aloud. "And why do we need to do the snow dance when it's already snowing?"

She sighs and bats at him. "That's not the point. The point is, it's an excuse to dance crazily in your shower with your pajamas on wrong."

"Sounds like my kind of thing," he says dryly.

"Don't worry. You'll be an _instant_ convert." She can't help but laugh out loud when she pictures Squall dancing exuberantly in the shower. She makes a mental note to check the batteries on her digital camera.

They sit on the trunk of the car, watching the snow slowly accumulate on the roads and frosty grass.

"You go back to work tomorrow. Team Rinoa and Squall finally get to make their debut," she says, snuggling into him and grinning. "Doesn't that make you _haaaappy_?" she teases.

He makes a face at her, but she smiles because when he wraps his arm around her waist, she knows just how happy it makes him.

**THE END

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**

Oh God…over half a year on this story and it's over already. I feel incredibly accomplished (this is more than 200 pages in Word!) not to mention incredibly indebted to my many reviewers who never failed to give me a piece of their mind. This is much better than my somewhat shameful excuse for a first fanfiction, and I'm genuinely happy that I've improved so much. Keep an eye out for my future works, and I'll see you guys soon!

peridotaurora


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